Ouch My Toe! » Current Affairs

Crossing one’s Tea

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 04:16:49 +0000

I don’t know what you are addicted to…but I am addicted to tea. Any kind of tea will do for me – be it Green Tea, White Tea, Black Tea, Herbal Tea or my favourite Japanese Tea. It is funny how an Indian sitting in Gurgaon is writing about something that the Chinese discovered and the Japanese added flavour to – Japanese tea.

Discovering Tea

It is believed that the Chinese discovered tea when some tea leaves accidentally fell into a pot of boiling water. Now my question is – who threw in the milk and sugar?

I am not the only one who is addicted to tea of any kind. Over the years, Indian culture & customs have been influenced by tea. Customs were influenced less by tea and more by tea smugglers.

Americans & Tea

It is said that an American improvised on tea and came up with the concept of “Iced Tea.” What beats me is that they did it in 1904 (at the 1904 World Fair St. Louis) when refrigerators were not available in a normal household. And even if refrigerators were available ….how did some random tea leaves fly into a refrigerator? Wasn’t the refrigerator door closed?

Americans live by improvising. Besides the telephone, I know of nothing that has been invented (or discovered) by the Americans. Why…they needed Christopher Colombus, an Italian sailor working for a Spanish queen, to discover their own country – the Americas!

American improvisation didn’t end there. Four years later, Thomas Sullivan of New York developed the concept of tea in a bag. I don’t understand the concept of tea bags…why have tea in a bag when one can have it in a tea cup?

Maybe you aren’t aware of this….in the United States of America, 90% of the tea consumed is black. And here in India 90% of the tea consumed is white (with milk that is). Ironic isn’t it - white men having black tea and black men having white tea?

Tea in Europe & how it lost to wine

According to the tea historian, whose article I have been reading, after becoming popular in China, Japan and America….tea started filtering into Europe in the 17th century. Now, my question is….if tea was all filtered…how did the Europeans ever get the tea leaves? And what a big filter it should have been. The one that I use in my house to filter tea into the tea cup has a diameter of ten centimeters.

In Europe, tea first filtered into Holland and France. In Holland it is popular to this day, but in France wine has taken over. There were a few benefits that wine offered over and above tea, and we are not talking about the alcohol content.

Some of the differences that the French saw before they shifted away from tea are:

• Wine didn’t need a heating unit
• Wine didn’t need to be filtered
• Wine didn’t need milk to be added

High Tea vs Low Tea

That we know the French have ceased to be tea drinkers, let us quit talking about them and move on to something higher in the hierarchy – High Tea.

Many a times, we have received mails from our office Admin guy saying: “The CEO’s speech will be followed by ‘High Tea’.”

“Why ‘High Tea’ and what does it mean,” I always wondered.

Apparently, there is a ‘Low Tea’ as well, but it is reserved for the aristocrats. When tea is accompanied by only light snacks it is known as ‘Low Tea.’ In sharp contrast ‘High Tea’ is accompanied by heavy snacks and is a prerogative of the poor. Now that you know ‘High Tea’ is a humiliating suggestion, I expect you to ignore the next ‘High Tea’ invite you get.

This doesn’t mean you don’t visit the Coffee houses (The favorite beverage asked for in Coffee Houses was tea but since Coffee had been around long before tea arrived, the name stayed). It is only now that the Coffee Houses have items in menu that start at Rs 100/cup. There was a time in history when one could visit a Coffee House, and get a pot of tea and a newspaper for just a penny. What you did with the newspaper was nobody’s problem.

After such a long, boring article….if only someone can make me a cup of tea.

When I wanted to become a suicide bomber

Jamshed V Rajan — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 18:16:19 +0000

I once wanted to become a suicide bomber. It was 1990 A.D. and I was in class eight….I think Ms Geeta Kumari was my class teacher.

Suicide bombing hadn’t yet become a career option – the middle classes still wanted their children to become an Engineer, a Doctor or a Collector. I decided to become a Collector, because I didn’t like what the only Engineer & Doctor I knew did for a living – the former was always flirting with the brick carrying lady while the latter preferred the nurse. I know, I was only 14 years old then…but you got to agree that we Rajans have that special something to spot a flirt.

In order to become a suicide bomber, I started practicing. By early February, 1990 I could hide under my shirt my school bag and my cricket bat. My guru in this exercise was Zafar Iqbal, a class 10 student who told me that he was a retired suicide bomber. I followed his advice, and spent at least 20 hours a day, trying to hide all kinds of things under my shirt.

Zafar said his family was full of suicide bombers. He even swore that his 80 year old grand pa was a suicide bomber – I know, it defies logic…but back then I didn’t have the courage to question him.

When I asked him why he had become a suicide bomber at such a young age, he narrated the story of his father’s bravery.

Like the rest of their family, his father Yakub Khan had also enrolled to be a suicide bomber when he was all of 24. After the training was over – in which Yakub couldn’t ask his suicide bombing teacher at Suicide Bombing Institute of India (SBII) for a second demonstration – he was sent to suicide attack an Indian Army camp in Dehradun.

I could see pride in Zafar Iqbal’s eyes as he was in a world of his own while narrating the story of his father’s bravado. He continued….

And then, my father strapped four kilograms of TNT around his stomach and put of a winter jacket over it. Since it was November…nobody suspected him. He walked right up to the middle of the cantonment and called up his bosses in SBII.. My father told his bosses that he was in the center of the cantonment, and wanted permission to commit suicide. Like true professionals, the bosses gave the green signal immediately….but as luck would have it…my father’s bomb refused to go off. He pressed the red button again….then again…then again…but the bomb just didn’t go off.

I looked in awe as I listened to Zafar’s passionate narration.

My father looked around him…there was nobody…..he could have given up and just walked out of the cantonment alive. But that wasn’t my father….he was a brave man. He pulled out his knife…and as promised to his bosses…slashed his wrists and committed suicide.

Zafar was my suicide bombing guru for a long time. And by the time I realized that suicide bombers didn’t retire, as Zafar had claimed, but died and spent time in heaven with 72 virgins, it was too late.

Around December, 1990, I decided to branch out on my own. I named my group Al Alphonsa Al Bimar Al Camchor and even made my own visiting cards.

With just a visiting card and burning ambition, I decided to tie up with other terrorist outfits. Zafar had told me that terrorists exchanged messages on porn sites….so I started visiting porn sites by the dozen.

You are probably thinking how a 14 year old, middle class boy, growing up in Kolkata (and that too in 1990 A.D.) will have internet access at home. Just to remind you…..you are reading my blog. So continue….

I started visiting porn sites. In the six months I spent searching for messages from terrorists hidden in porn sites…I came pretty close only once.

The message, which I saw just below a lady’s picture, said: “She packs solid ones under her jackets. She be mean, and can kill you with her looks.”

There were links next to this message called ‘View Her Images’ ‘View Her Free Videos’…….I did view them but it turned out to be a dead end. There were no clues so I couldn’t proceed any further.

After wanting to become a suicide bomber for a little more than a year…I dropped my plan on 21 May, 1991 - the day Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated by a suicide bomber.

Appreciating people who are different

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 03:14:49 +0000

June 30 saw Delhi’s first Gay Parade. Some 100 policemen and 500 gay activists congregated at one place (and yes the Delhi policemen were there only for protection) to churn the system. This blog post is a tribute to the gay guts.

I also wanted to be there…but couldn’t find my mask. When I decided to go ahead without my mask the thought of my Shiv Sena supporting neighbour stopped me. If I had worn the pink colored shirt that day (which I would have, if I were going to the Gay Parade) this neighbour of mine would have caught me and scolded me.

The last time he caught me watching the 20Twenty cricket, he had warned me of dire consequences if I didn’t switch off the TV when the cheerleaders came on screen.

“What? How can you NOT be up against the cheerleaders, when our country’s values are being flaunted like this?” He had asked.

“Siva, I am not up against the cheerleaders…at least not as often as I would like to.” I remember saying.

The poor guy didn’t get the joke.

I wanted to be at the Gay parade, because I believe that every individual should be allowed to be himself/herself. Perhaps that’s why when my bachelor friend Rohit Khanna said he had bought a sex toy I got excited.

He whispered into my ears: “I bought a sex toy!”

“Wow…I have never seen one!” It was a lie…because I once saw a dildo on the X-ray machine at the security check counter of Bangalore airport. Wonder why it was kept in a laptop bag.

My friend replied: “You can come home if you like. It is black, and sleek.”

I said sure and forgot. When I took time out the next weekend to visit his place….I saw the HCL Busy Bee Desktop which he was referring to as a sex toy. I didn’t argue with him. After all, desktops have become the biggest sex toys in the last ten years of so.

If you think only unmarried men do as they wish, you are wrong. The other day, my colleague and I were having tea in the office cafeteria at 6 p.m., when my colleague blurted out: “As soon as I reach home, I am going to rip open my wife’s bra!”

“Be a dude and hold your tongue. You don’t need to be so graphic.” I had already started imagining – within seconds they had hit the bed.

“Right there! Stop your imagination! I am the one wearing my wife’s bra.”

I have had a good amount of respect for him since the incident. In fact, the other day I even did the good old girl trick on him: “Hey, Monday comes before Sunday!” (Are you a guy and didn’t get the joke? Check with a girl)

It is not just the guys who live life on their own terms. Some of the women too (and if you are one, call me!). The other day, I was in a church and when one of my girl friends walked in. I wanted to avoid her because only the previous night we had had an embarrassing situation….so, I ran to the confessional box and hid myself.

To my dismay, she walked right up to the confessional box…looked here and there….and started confessing.

“Father, I have sinned,” she said.

“Why? What happened my child?” At that moment I felt like Michael Jackson – just that unlike me he first calls them his children and then has sex with them.

“Father, you remember this guy called Jamshed, who comes to our church sometimes?”

“Yes dear. What about him? Did YOU also sleep with her?”

“No father….we didn’t sleep the whole night….”

At this point, I couldn’t take her lies. I pulled away the curtains and shouted back: “Liar! We slept off by 3.30 a.m…..remember?”

Like a girl who lived on her own terms, she decided to dump me.

Other Funny Reads

Am I turning into a woman?
Male sex organs (U Certificate)
What if there were no women in the World
Kissing – how it all began
Jammy’s sex life exposed!
Am I a lesbian?

The increasing cost of living

Jamshed V Rajan — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 19:00:38 +0000

In 1985 my father was posted in Akhnoor, Jammu (a border area) and thus couldn’t take his family along. Back then, I was 10 years old and was studying in the fifth standard. Every month, my father would send Rs 1500 to my mother, who would then manage the four-member family (me, my two sisters and herself) very comfortably. There never was a thing that we wanted and didn’t get.

I will be honest - there were some restriction on purchases. Big Fun (I don’t know how many of you actually went on to score runs, pick up wickets and win the prizes!) could be bought daily and Gold Spot could be bought weekly once. Éclairs chocolates were costly and hence were substituted by Parle’s orange candy. T-Series cassettes were Rs 11, and hence beyond the range – maybe that’s why even today, nobody in my family listens to music.

Today, Rekha and I end up spending Rs 1500 for a single dinner itself. Especially if it is a marriage reception and the person getting married is a Vice President in your company and thus holds the key to your success. Life today sure is costly than what it was earlier.

A week back I read in the papers that the petrol prices have gone up. But this hasn’t changed what I put in my petrol tank. I might have discovered that Gripe water costs less per liter…but haven’t started using that to fuel my car, yet.

Initially, I did worry about the increase in petrol prices but when I sat down to calculate I found out that a litre of Coke costs Rs 100, a litre of the Vim liquid Rekha uses to wash the dishes costs Rs 150 and a litre of the Rose water that my girl friend uses to wash her face before she goes to bed costs Rs 1000. So why complain?

Well…I did manage to convince myself that there was nothing to worry.

That’s when my mother called me and said that there was a 5000 square feet of land near our house which was available for Rs 20 lakhs.

“Didn’t father buy the land our house today rests on, for Rs 60,000 only?” I asked.

“Son, that was in 1995. This is 2008.”

As always, my mother was right. I didn’t continue the discussion further…though I wondered why in spite of so many farmers committing suicide and so many of their helpless wives selling lands to feed their children….the land prices were going up.

When I am depressed my only solace is the internet so I logged on to GTalk and waited for a prey to arrive. Ajay Shroff, who stays in Canada and runs a popular website called http://reelninja.com/ came online.

“So, do you also use petrol for your car, in Canada?” I asked him on chat.

“NO!”

“Lucky you. So you must be saving a lot of money?”

“Not really.”

“How come?”

“I use diesel. And its price is also related to the price of petrol, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“Ohh…I didn’t realize. So is the cost of living high in Canada?”

“Of course yes. This is a developed country remember…everything is costly.”

“Lets compare then….how much is a coffee there?” I was keen to prove him that India was a costly place to live in.

“Hmmm…around Rs 70.”

“India wins hands down. We spend Rs 90 a cup of coffee.” I said with an air of triumph.

“Rs 90? Where do you have your coffee?

“At Barista. Or Coffee Day. And I am not even including the car parking charges.”

Ajay Shroff lost the contest…game, set and match. And India won.

Surprise Quiz: Name three products you buy knowing fully well that it is going down the drain?

Toilet paper

Condoms

A diamond ring for the lady in your life

When deodorants got banned

Jamshed V Rajan — Thu, 15 May 2008 18:29:09 +0000

Deodorants are very important in today’s World. In fact, when the first time capsule was buried 50 feet below the ground, during the World Fair in 1937, a deodorant can was one of the items kept inside. It was expected that after traveling a long way the Aliens would take bath, spray the deo and freshen up before sitting down for a dialogue. Just in case you believed me, I am kidding.

While reading this blog post further….think of me as an 82-year-old journalist writing a news item in the year 2057 A.D.

If you are as old as I am, you probably remember the days when one could use deodorants without the fear of being arrested. Back then, parents would gift deodorants to their sons on their 18th birthdays. Or sisters would take their brothers out for shopping so that they could select a good deo for their boyfriends. Or husbands would walk up to their wives and say: ‘Hey, you smell of onions and garlic. Here use this deo!”

If you don’t remember, let this 82 year old man jog your memory. In 2025 A.D Indian doctors identified eight dangerous compounds in deodorants and recommended that its use be banned. At first the Government didn’t take notice of the scientists’ findings…but when the scientists proved that consistent use of deodorants on white mice resulted in infertility, they sat up and listened.

The Government discussed it in both the Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha, where the ban found 100% support. Some traced it to the fact that our MPs raise a stink because they don’t use deos….and perhaps that’s why they didn’t oppose when the bill on banning of deos.

Some of the deodorant manufacturing companies protested, but when the CEOs were asked to use their own brand of deodorants and prove that it wasn’t harmful…they all backed out. One of them blacked out.

Thus in 2030 A.D. deodorants were banned. Life wasn’t really affected much because people moved to perfumes. But in 2033 A.D. Priyanka Gandhi, the new Prime Minister of the country, banned perfumes too. She said she didn’t like Robert Vadra using it.

Ever since that day, Indians have been living a life without deodorants and perfumes. The outside world didn’t really notice, till Pakistan & Bangladesh complained that its citizens living on its borders were being affected. The stench was so bad that some of the kids born in the border areas were born with deformities.

On April 1, 2050 A.D. Pakistan raised a stink about the issue in United Nation’s Security Council and said that the lives of its citizens were being compromised. At first, the Security Council’s members laughed thinking Pakistan’s concern about the lives of its citizens was an April Fools joke. But when Pakistan’s Foreign Minister Iqbal (some say he got the name because he only had one hair on his head) insisted on the severity of the issue, the Security Council members relented and agreed to speak to India’s fourth Prime Minister from BJP party….Rahul Gandhi.

Many Indian thinkers, in jail for using smuggled deos on their armpits as a mark of protest, wrote to Rahul asking him to revoke the ban. The scientific man that Rahul was, he asked his scientists to check if the ban on deodorants had improved the fertility amongst the Indians and the population growth was back on track.

I remember the scientists’ verdict coming in after a fortnight. It said: “The ban on deo usage has improved the fertility of the Indians…but our population growth rate is still going down.”

Can you guess why? If yes, please leave a comment.

What if I was born in 2050 A.D.?

Jamshed V Rajan — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 19:24:53 +0000

I don’t know why, but since yesterday I have been feeling that maybe I should have been born around 2050 A.D. As if having an Army man father and a housewife for a mother wasn’t bad enough….I was born in 1975 – the un-coolest of all years. I say un-coolest because that was also the year the below given happened:

• A state of Emergency was declared in India
• US of A’s first Game Show ‘Wheel of Fortune’ premiered on NBC, kicking off a culture we would love to hate
• Sharp teeth became the sign of defiance with the release & subsequent success of Steven Spielberg’s movie ‘Jaws’
• Hillary Rodham made the mistake of marrying Bill Clinton

(During my research, I also found out that actress Preity Zinta is three months elder to me – yes, she was born on Jan 31, 1975)

Let me clarify that I wanted to be born in 2050 A.D. not only because 1975 A.D. was such an un-cool year but also because I am a man for the future.

Imagine, getting up without the hangover (I am hoping by then the scientists would come up a whiskey that doesn’t leave a hangover in the morning!) and walking straight into your environment-friendly washroom.

Even as you sit on the potty, the gobar gas that is being created is converted into energy, thus powering the digital newspaper mounted on the washroom door which you are facing. Since you don’t need to turn the pages of this digital newspaper…digging one’s nose, which is a National pastime in some countries, isn’t an issue.

The environment-friendly potty of yours diverts the flush water (hoping you would flush after you are done) to the coffee maker, which brews up a strong coffee to your liking…so when you leave the washroom you have a mug in your hand. How things change in hundred years – back then, our ancestors would enter the washroom with a mug (of water).

Because of scarcity of water and clean outdoors, bathing will be a thing of the past. Deodorants will come in fragrances of Printer Ink, Letter Head, Fresh Macintosh. Don’t believe me? Try soaking in their smell…it is addictive. And I am sure by 2050 A.D. there will be enough demand.

After a quick deo-spray, I would be ready for office. Since, all the BPO workers would have been raped and murdered no BPOs would exist, and I would probably still be helping build online properties.

Since all my colleagues would have been killed either by AIDS, Bird Flu or the BlueLine busses (and those that were left out in the race to heaven would have died on the way to the hospital cursing themselves for buying Tata Nano) I would be a lonely man. I wouldn’t like to go to office, but when the time came …would attach myself to an e-mail and dispatch myself to my official mail ID only to be downloaded there. I don’t for a second doubt Sabeer Bhatia’s son’s ability to come up with a mail service that will help individuals to attach oneself to a mail ….but I do doubt his ability to transport me with all my clothes on. Note: Keep a pair of clothes in office.

Once in office I will finish my work quickly and start watching Dev Anand’s romantic movies – that’s hoping he doesn’t stop making movies when he is 127 years old (that’s how old he would be in 2050 A.D.).

Once the movie is over, I will switch on my i-Pod Atom (that’s how small the i-Pods will become) and start listening to music. At the rate at which lyrics are getting insignificant, in 2050 A.D. there will be no lyrics in movie songs and thus I will be able to enjoy songs from even Bhojpuri movies.

F*&^ this post is going nowhere – maybe the time I am spending on the treadmill is making me less creative. Note: Need to try this as an excuse tom.

Tata Nano, cars and other related issues

Jamshed V Rajan — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 19:46:13 +0000

Harry Kurnitz was once asked what he thought of Volkswagens. He said: “I have been in bigger women.” Not a polite thing to say, but I think the same of Tata Nano. Very unfortunate then, that Ratan Tata (the man who dreamt of Tata Nano and made it possible) has a father who shares his first name with me – Jamshedji Ratanji Tata.

In Automobile industry there have been quite a few car-for-the-masses experiments and not all have succeeded. We all know that Henry Ford’s Model T was a success…but then what about Yugoslavia’s cheap car project…which ended up making Yugo?

The Yugoslavian Car Fiasco - Yugo

Here are some Yugo jokes I came across when I used to handle Sify’s automobile channel called Carstreet.com.

# How do you upgrade a Yugo car?
- Put in an engine.

# Why do Yugos have heated rear windows?
- To keep your hands warm when you’re pushing them.

# What goes on pages 4-5 of the Yugo user’s manual?
- The train & bus schedule.

# What is the sport-version of Yugo?
- The driver wears Nike shoes.

# What do you call a Yugo at the top of a hill?
- A miracle.

# What do you call two Yugos at the top of a hill?
- A mirage.

# How do you double the value of a Yugo?
- Half fill it with gasoline!

———–X———–X————

Having born in the era of white Ambassadors with curtains and mini fans, I didn’t see much of cars till I was really old. My 10-month-old daughter has already tried her hand on my Suzuki Swift’s steering wheel…but I was at least 11 years old when I first sat in a car – my father’s unit Commanding officer’s car, when he spotted us walking to school.

It all happened so fast, that I couldn’t even move my bums up and down and feel the cushions.

I had to wait till I started working before I next sat in a car. I was working late one night and I asked my boss if he could call me a cab.

He eventually did…but not before asking: “Do you want me to call you a cab to your face or behind your back?”

The SMS I sent to my boss after buying a car

I remember sending the same boss an SMS, after I bought my Swift. See accompanying picture to see the SMS I sent. >>

Buying the car was the easy part…getting the four wheeler’s driving license wasn’t.

I remember the Brake Inspector asking me to demonstrate car parking. I thought I parked the car well, and walked up to him and asked: “So, how was it?”

“Well…it will get you a fine.”

“Ohh…and is ‘fine’ enough? Or do I have to get a ‘good’ or an ‘excellent’?

I remember being asked to try for my four wheeler’s license after three months.

If you have ridden a two-wheeler and now own a four-wheeler, you probably know the difference. When on my Yamaha 135, if I spotted an accident….I would drive carefully for the next ten minutes. Ever since I have bought a car I just say: “Kill ‘em bastards,” and drive faster.

Today in the Stock Market

Jamshed V Rajan — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 19:57:33 +0000

A poem titled - Today in the Stock Market:

Helium was up, feathers were down.
Paper was stationary.
Fluorescent tubing was dimmed in light trading.
Knives were up sharply.
Cow steered into a bull market.
Pencils lost a few points.
Hiking equipment was trailing.
Elevators rose, while escalators continued their slow decline.
Weights were up in heavy trading.
Light switches were off.
Mining equipment hit rock bottom.
Diapers remain unchanged.
Shipping lines stayed at an even keel.
The market for raisins dried up.
Coca Cola fizzled.
Caterpillar stock inched up a bit.
Sun peaked at midday.
Balloon prices were inflated.
And batteries exploded in an attempt to recharge the market.

Courtesy: http://treebeard31.wordpress.com/

Study Reveals Why Monkeys Shout During Sex

Jamshed V Rajan — Fri, 28 Dec 2007 19:31:12 +0000

Research reveals that female monkeys shout during sex

to help their male partners climax. Helpful ladies, one must say.

According to the research a type of monkey - Barbary macaques (Macaca sylvanus) almost never ejaculated when the ladies were not loud. Man…I am so glad this isn’t true for we humans. The Human race would have been extinct by now. To read the complete story, Click Here

While you are at it, you might also want to view this slideshow about the world’s top ten Aphrodisiacs – the topmost being ‘Respect’. Click Here

Irony: Writing About Freedom of Speech

Jamshed V Rajan — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 18:53:50 +0000

Gentlemen are requested; servants are commanded, to keep off the grass.

- A sign in a London Park in 19th century.

Funny, I have to be ‘writing’ about the freedom of speech. I am doing so because if I speak this out, people will identify and bump me off as another fundamentalist….some day I am late from office.

Two recent incidents have caught my attention and believe me it is not Kiruba going to Amsterdam or Arnab Ray (the GreatBong) getting 400+ comments for a single post. For those that don’t know them…I consider these two people as my greatest blog enemies. I need to have enemies, to be competitive. So much so, I want all Ouchmytoe readers to visit Kiruba’s & Arnab’s and thank them for such funny articles you get on Ouchmytoe.

Now, for the one real incident which concerns me - Taslima Nasreen’s second exile.

My advice to Taslima would be to start writing a travelogue as soon as possible. At the rate at which she is being moved from State to State, very soon she will be able to publish a book titled: “India Exposed – 28 States & Seven Union Territories.” My only hope is she doesn’t mention the word ‘Islam’ in the book.

I am divided in my concern for Taslima Nasreen. In the early 90s, when I was young (and so was Taslima) I would have laid down my life for her. If you don’t believe me, take a look at her photograph from the 90s….isn’t she a sweetheart?

But today, being a married man (with two women in his life!) I asked myself: “Did my Taslima do the right thing?”

For long I didn’t get the right answer. After all, who was I to comment on what was wrong and what was right?

Here is a conversation I overheard between two of my colleagues at the Cafeteria. I didn’t join them in the conversation because that would have meant abandoning my chair positioned between Sunandini Basu & Tinky Toinkers – two of my pretty (but married!) colleagues –

Krishnamurthy: When somebody’s voice has the power to reach the public…one should be careful about what is being said.

Naeem: Does that mean celebrities can’t have freedom of speech?

Krishnamurthy: They can. But they can’t say everything that a common man can say.

Naeem: So, the celebrities can’t have freedom of speech?

Krishnamurthy: They have the freedom of speech. But as they said in Spiderman II, with powers of celebrity-dom come bigger responsibilities.

Naeem: Are you saying that Taslima shouldn’t have written about Islam the way she did?

Krishnamurthy: She definitely shouldn’t have. Taslima is the culprit.

Naeem: But I fought with my father when he blamed Taslima for writing ill about Islam.

Krishnamurthy: You did? Why?

Naeem: By writing ill about such a magnificent truth of life, Taslima showed that she didn’t know anything about Islam.

Krishnamurthy: I agree.

Naeem: Yeah…so why don’t we just laugh Taslima away and give her space to grow up and realize her folly?

Naeem’s suggestion hit me hard. That’s why, when my baby girl spit on me last evening, I didn’t spit back (which I usually do). Instead, I gave her some space to grow up…and start calling me: “Daddy!”

Shucks…this definitely isn’t Ouchmytoe style. Since when did we start having such serious articles in here? Hmm…let me guess, since the Chivas Regal Scotch Whiskey got over?

Looking for Funny Articles?

# Every photograph has a story to tell
# Where is the Submit (to sex) button?
# How Indian wives take their husbands for a ride
# What if there were no women in the World

SPAM = Somebody’s Patience Almost Murdered

Jamshed V Rajan — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 02:07:58 +0000

I wish I could give you my Gmail account’s username & password, ask you to login and check my SPAM folder.

Some say that Sergey Brin wanted this folder in Gmail to be named “MAPS” but when he called up Larry Page and asked him to take it down, lest it is forgotten…Larry the Lazy wrote it on his chest with a marker. The next day, he had to excuse himself from the meeting, and visit the men’s loo to find out the folder name as suggested by his partner. Thus was born, “SPAM”.

For the reader who would like to know the truth…SPAM (whatever that mean?!) was first born in 1978, when an e-mail spam was sent to 600 addresses. The next large scale SPAM happened in 1994, when a single mail was sent to 6000 newsgroups, reaching millions of people. Today, 90 billion SPAM mails are sent across to people like you and me, per day. While we are on the subject…can you guess who gets the maximum number of SPAM each year? Yes, you got it right…it is Bill Gates!

Next to Bill Gates, I get the maximum amount of SPAM. For example, yesterday Sherri Powell mailed me saying she could help me renew my self esteem. And Greta Sallie offered to improve my confidence in bed.

Agreed, I need a bit of self esteem but why do I need confidence in bed? It is not as if I am going to discuss a business deal in bed?

Have given below some interesting subject lines of the mails I found in my SPAM folder. You can find my comments in italics –

Gonzalo Marin’s mail: Buy Rolex watches at cheapest prices
(I wouldn’t really need it now. The Rolex I bought from your cousin Geraldine Marin is still working fine)

Edwina Ricks’ mail: Expand, lengthen & Enlarge
(I agree Ouchmytoe is in the exaggeration business. We can expand our imagination and lengthen the articles that appear here…but what do we enlarge?)

Sandra Witt’s mail: Be large, be in charge
(Can’t help it now Sandra…I am not growing beyond 165 cms)

Owen Brunett’s mail: 80% of the women are unsatisfied
(Tell me about it. My wife is especially pissed off with my lack of baby handling skills)

Susanne Richardson’s mail: You can have 40% of my 100 million dollars
(I wish I could….but my wife would ask “hope you aren’t selling your body?”)

GMail Team’s mail: Gmail Account Alert (Verify your account details)
(Duffer…if I am already inside my Gmail, why do I need to verify the account details?)

Jeremy West’s mail: You can relax with Viagra
(What if I have a Viagra and my partner gets a sudden headache? Where do I go and bang my head?)

I know this post isn’t great…but then, this week wasn’t great either and you DIDN’T complain!

Video - The iPhone Commercial

Jamshed V Rajan — Sat, 30 Jun 2007 17:37:53 +0000

Saw this Apple’s iPhone video on YouTube and thought it deserved to be on Ouchmytoe.com as well.

Some more iPhone links -

# A funny take on iPhone - Courtesy, The Onion
# Features the iPhone doesn’t have
# iPhone - The real story
# Wikipedia’s iPhone page for comprehensive info on the smart phone

British comedian Bernard Manning dies

Jamshed V Rajan — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 19:03:35 +0000

Controversial British comedian Bernard Manning died today. Branded a racist through out his life, the star comedian was banned from many clubs in Britain. His death hasn’t settled matters…people are still arguing if racist comments can be funny.

The good thing about a comedian dying is that you get other comedians coming out of the closet and delivering eulogies.

Here is what fellow comedian Frank Carson had to say to BBC, “He was a wonderful man. If I had to write his gravestone I’d put: Here lies Bernard Manning, comedian, who died 76 years old.”

“Underneath that I’d put: What a pity, he had a booking next week.”

Some funnies from the suitcase

# Quotes on what is funny and what is not….
# Difference between a train & an aeroplane - a guide for the first time flyer
# When I was no longer ‘cute’ for the women
# Do platonic relationships exist?
# Do all married men need mistresses?

Getting drugged slowly but steadily

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 14 Jan 2007 04:43:14 +0000

Yesterday I took my grandmother to a hospital nearby. She had been coughing the whole night and I thought if I could fix her a meeting with the 65-year-old general physician nearby, she would be happy.

My grandma had a ball of a time. The doctor held her hand (he said he was checking the pulse, but I don’t believe him) which made me turn my head away. When he continued his small talk beyond the customary ten minutes I had to excuse myself from the room.

While waiting outside, I realized the biggest truth of our times. Medicines are really costly and beyond the reach of the average IT professional who earns only INR 75,000 per month. I didn’t believe when my friends said drugs were costly but now I believe them.

Talking of drugs, I once tried sniffing coke. It managed it well for a while but couldn’t do anything once the straw stuck in my nose. Guess sniffing coke is no longer fashionable. But there was a time….a time when the world was normal and people took drugs to make it weird. Unfortunately, now the world is weird but people take anti-depressants to make it normal.

Coming back to drugs…I remember Art Buchwald writing in one of his columns that medicines in US were so costly that people had started storing them in their bank lockers.

While my thoughts were racing across the Atlantic ocean, I saw an investment banker walk into the pharmacy and ask: “What is the costliest tablet you have?”

While a confused Jammy looked at the investment banker, the pharmacist as a matter of fact replied: “You can either buy InvestiPill which costs INR 78,000 per tablet or go for CeleSave which costs INR 81,499.99 per tablet.”

I had never known that such pills existed. The tablets I ever bought – and I wonder whom I should thank for that …God because he ensured I wouldn’t need costly pills or our family doctor who never prescribed them – were Saridon, Anacin, Dart or at the max Strepcils. Mind you, they are very cheap pills costing INR 1 each.

I moved closer to the pharmacy counter and asked: “Sir, the gentleman who just paid you INR 2,34,000 and bought three Investipills never showed you a prescription.”

“Looks like you don’t invest,” the pharmacist said.

“No I don’t. In fact, that is one of the reasons why my wife and I fight over the morning coffee.” I shot back.

“Are you saying you are not aware of the increasing drug prices?”

I replied in the negative.

At my second consecutive reply in the negative the pharmacist didn’t reply. Perhaps he didn’t want to talk to me.

Even as I was leaving, I saw an old man walk towards the pharmacy. He had snow like white hair and was using a walking stick to balance himself. I took a step towards him and asked: “Sir, do you remember the good old times when medicines used to be cheaper?”

“I am sorry…I don’t know what you are talking about. BTW, does this pharmacy have tablets for Alzheimers?”

Other Must Reads

On why I hate old men in post offices with a postcard in their hand
Tale of a dead towel
I drink, therefore I am
Kissing – how it all began
On why I hate Nursery Rhymes

Worth a thousand words…or some thoughts?

Jamshed V Rajan — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 18:56:11 +0000

Ouch My Toe! » Current Affairs

Crossing one’s Tea

Discovering Tea

Americans & Tea

Tea in Europe & how it lost to wine

High Tea vs Low Tea

Other Funny Reads

When I wanted to become a suicide bomber

Other Funny Reads

Appreciating people who are different

The increasing cost of living

Surprise Quiz: Name three products you buy knowing fully well that it is going down the drain?

Other Funny Reads

When deodorants got banned

Other Must Reads

What if I was born in 2050 A.D.?

Tata Nano, cars and other related issues

Other Car Reads

Today in the Stock Market

Study Reveals Why Monkeys Shout During Sex

Research reveals that female monkeys shout during sex

Irony: Writing About Freedom of Speech

Gentlemen are requested; servants are commanded, to keep off the grass.

Looking for Funny Articles?

SPAM = Somebody’s Patience Almost Murdered

Other funny blog posts you should read

Video - The iPhone Commercial

British comedian Bernard Manning dies

Some funnies from the suitcase

Getting drugged slowly but steadily

Worth a thousand words…or some thoughts?