In India stand up comedy is just taking off, and in Gurgaon-NCR region there are a few stand up comedians I am sure. But if you are looking for a stand up comedian who will come up with a stand up comedy show which will cut across all…and can be customized for your audience, look no further than the stand up comic named Jamshed V Rajan.

To see some of my recent stand up comedy gigs (all in India- by an Indian!!) check out these links:

@ Launch of Nasscom’s 10K Startups Event in Taj Mansingh Palace, Delhi.

The date was: 20 March 2013
The topic was “Entrepreneurs, Startups and Investors”
Click Here to view full video of the stand up comedy act

@ DoubleClick, an event dedicated to Marketing organized by Industry Interface and Jain University in Bangalore

The date was: 09 February 2013
The topic was “Marketing my Ass”
Video yet to arrive

@ At IIT Madras’ Annual social & cultural festival called Saarang, in Chennai

The date was: 12 January 2013
The topic was “Love, Relationships and Sex”
Click Here to view full video of the stand up comedy act

@ At Tezpur University’s National-Level Tech festival called TechXetra near Guwahati

The date was: 03 November 2012
The topic was “Life in a Corporate”
Click Here to view full video of the stand up comedy act

The first five minutes was really difficult – its difficult to draw people who have come for a serious event and make them laugh. It took the crowd five minutes to get warmed up. Besides I was the opening act…next was Eric Schmidt, ex-Chariman, Google.

You are going to read about somebody who is not yet India’s funniest stand up comedian but is on the way down so better brace up. Here are the ten things CIA doesn’t know about him.

His life has been full of quirks, idiosyncrasies, whims, eccentricity and oddity (It helps to know the usages of Thesaurus.. huh?)

Here are ten things about Jammy or Jamshed Velayuda Rajan…whatever… that CIA doesn’t know ….

Jamshed Velayuda Rajan, the stand up comedian sitting down...

I have a very unique name:
Call it my father’s patriotism (which comes from spending 32 years in the Indian Army) or my bad luck but my name represents four prominent religions of India – Parsee, Islam, Hinduism and Christianity. Jamshed is the Parsee & the Muslim bit. Velayuda is the Hindu part and Rajan, a Mallu Christian name. Am glad my father never forced me to wear his name ahead of mine. Otherwise, would not have written entrance exams for – PM-PD, AFMC, JIPMER, IIT-JEE – for the sole reason that the slot for the candidate`s name on the forms had only 28 squares but my name would have had 29 alphabets.

Chennai is but a small stop:
I have had a fairly easy life. From rajma-chawal of Jamshedpur to makki-di-roti and sarson-da-saag of Jalandhar to the kombidi-ka-piece of Kholapur to the mishti-doi of Kolkata, I have seen it all. Hoping to move ass soon.

I am a renowned two-timer:
Started it in the sixth grade. It was a lot easier then. Just that my Biology teacher K Geetakumari madam and the chirrupy class monitor Gitanjali never knew.

I have crossed swords with my father:
Once I was caught by my father with a love letter written for my class monitor Gitanjali. Convinced him that it was for the DD newsreader Geetanjali. The one who would alternate with Usha Alberquqe (the one who would eventually marry ‘Shaktiman’). Did not know then that she was my father`s crush too, for I got a good spanking for trespassing.

I thought I was a scientist:
My love for science made me think I was destined to be a scientist. I know it is hard to believe but once I had my own laboratory. It had different kinds rock, plastics, glass pieces, leaves and what not. I even had a microscope made of a shoe-box, a hollow aggarbati pipe and a broken 100 watts bulb filled with water. I would even embark on one of those walks of self-discovery because I was told that`s what scientists did. Stay aloof.

I have always taken risks:
When in ninth grade, I remember taking two aluminum wires and inserting one end of both in the two holes of a electrical socket and immersing the other two ends in a steel jar filled with water. The idea was to heat the water. The experiment ended with a blast when the main fuse of a 12-storied building that housed 48 houses went off minutes before Chitrahaar was due.

I studied Economics coz I wanted to ape Manmohan Singh:
I took to BA Economics after failing the PMPD entrance exam twice. I would go on to score 94 per cent in the first year and set a university record. Would blame it on Manmohan Singh, who had that year been named ‘Asian Finance Minister of the Year’ (think it was 1995).

I F*@^ up:
When in college I was blinded by love. Ended up giving a love letter intended for Shalini Mohan to her sister Sunita Mohan (names changed to preserve the identity of the girls). When last heard Shalini was spanked and the sisters had ceased to be friends. The letter came back, but the Amul chocolate (a gift for someone you love, I was told by a male model) is yet to come back. Don’t know which of the sisters had it.

I was the Library man:
In college, I would borrow huge colorful books because they helped me garner eye-balls in the bus. I would bring them back to the Library without reading. Incidentally, I was given the ‘Best Bookkeeper’ award. They thought I maintained them nicely.

Milkha Singh was my one-time hero:
Till I joined Sify, I was very much a sports person. I captained Tamil Nadu’s Kabaddi team to a tournament in Jaipur…where I would be selected to represent the country (School Games Federation of India). Later, I wanted to become a champion middle distance runner. I would practice night and day at the Race Course Athletics stadium in Madurai… until that fateful day when a man quite happy and gay walked up to me even as I was warming down and asked me if I was open to sexual experimentation.

Like I said, don’t form an opinion yet…I am yet to become India’s funniest writer.

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Jamshed V Rajan (also known as Jammy) has worked with The New Indian Express, Kheladi.com, Sify.com, Satyam Computers, American International Group, Yahoo!, and ibibo.com. Now he is the Chief Product Officer of Nimbuzz, a mobile application with 120 Million users from all over the World. He specializes in building communities on both web and mobile. He has a pretty wife Rekha and a 6 year old daughter called Rhea. Check out his profile on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter. He is online 18 hours a day. Call him on +919650080255 or chat with him on jv.rajan [@] gmail [.] com

I think now the Global body, International Women’s Commission and the local organization called National Commission for Women have served their purpose. They have uplifted the women and now need to move out and give way for the upcoming men-focused organizations such as the 3-member People’s Organization for Relief to Men (PORM) and the anonymous men’s support group Fellowship of Unnamed Confident Kings (FUCK).

Before we go into what the men are doing to uplift themselves, lets find out what how the last meeting of the National Commission for Women ended.

Purnima: “Thanks ladies for joining us. I will pass today’s agenda around, and we can start discussing. The agenda is: Defining what we are fighting for”.

Pankhuri: “Yes, Seriously…what are we fighting for? We now have as much rights as the men, if not more.”

Priyanka: “We hold their bank accounts, their wallets, and their balls – I think we are good. “

Tavneet: “Yes I agree. We decide what is for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

Bani: “I second you Tavneet. We decide how the furniture is arranged in the house, we get to work if required and quit if we feel like….can’t get better than this. “

Somyata: “Yes, and we get to dress however we want and roam around the streets of every city. Barring Guwahati, of course.”

Purnima: “Are you guys saying we should disband the National Commission for Women?”

All kinds of hands go up in the air – nail polished, mehendi-ed, krack creamed, bangle-ed, soaked in dishwasher-ed, and many more.

Lets not get into the gory details of how the commission got disbanded, and move on to a typical meeting of the FUCK group. Since nobody is really willing to take the onus and stepping in to organize the meeting, it all starts with a small email asking if “we should meet”.

For best results please read email trail from last to the most recent – as you would read a forwarded mail trail in office.

Remember I said “Start reading the emails from the bottom and move up.”

———-X———X———-

From: Manish Jain
Sent: Monday, August 27, 2012 12:21 PM
To: Harsh Vardhan Thakur
Cc: Sharad Sharma; Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal; Mukesh Tanwani; Nitin Yadav
Subject: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Guys, I am begging you….remove me from this mail trail.
My wife has my email passwords and if she sees these emails, I am doomed.
Thank you all.

Best wishes,
Manish Jain

———————–

From: Harsh Vardhan Thakur
Sent: Sunday, August 26, 2012 3:27 PM
To: Bijoy Singhal; Vineet Duggal; Sharad Sharma
Cc: Manish Jain; Mukesh Tanwani
Subject: RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Hi all,
Though I didn’t get a rousing response to my suggestion of what rights we should be fighting for, here is another initiative from my side. I think it would be a good idea to agree on the following:

FUCKs official Drink: Bag Pipers
FUCKs official Snack: Lays Classic Salt Chips
FUCKs official Beer: Polygamy Porter
FUCKs official TV Channel: ESPN
FUCKs official Print partner: PlayBoy
FUCKs official Porn Partner: Youporn.com

So where are we meeting. Anything decided yet?

Please note, I have not yet removed Manish Jain and MukeshTanwani so that they know what they are going to miss. May the next person remove them.

Cheers
Harsh

———————–

From: Bijoy Singhal
Sent: Saturday, August 25, 2012 3:27 PM
To: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal; Sharad Sharma
Cc: Manish Jain; Mukesh Tanwani
Subject: RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Update on recruiting for FUCKs:

Today evening I met MrNitinYadav and he is impressed by our plans and wants to join the movement. But as you are all aware, Mr Manish Jain and MrMukeshTanwani aren’t interested and hence didn’t join the briefing at Brix Bar in Sector 29 in Gurgaon.

Now that we are 4 member organization, we can legally go ahead and register and start fighting for our rights.

P.S.: Added Manish Jain and MukeshTanwani so that they know that we are done with them. Next person to email, pls remove them from the list.

Thanks
Bijoy

———————–

From: NitinYadav
Sent: Saturday, August 25, 2012 3:20 PM
To: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal
Cc: Manish Jain; Mukesh Tanwani
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Guys, can we please make sure we don’t send any emails to Mr Manish Jain and MrMukeshTanwani.

Note: Have added them in this email so that they are aware that we are making an effort.

Yours,
Nitin

———————–

From: MukeshTanwani
Sent: Saturday, August 25, 2012 1:27 PM
To: Manish Jain
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal; Mukesh Tanwani; Nitin Yadav
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Guys,
I am already into Art of Living and I don’t need one more distraction in my life.

If anybody is thinking of meeting for badminton, table tennis or squash do let me know…I will be interested.

Thanks,
Mukesh T

———————–

From: Manish Jain
Sent: Friday, August 24, 2012 7:27 PM
To: Sharad Sharma
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal; Mukesh Tanwani; Nitin Yadav
Subject: RE: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

I am still part of the email trail. Please remove me!!
Thank you all.

Best wishes,
Manish Jain

———————–

From: Harsh Vardhan Thakur
Sent: Thursday, August 23, 2012 9:52 AM
To: Sharad Sharma, Manish Jain
Cc: Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal; Mukesh Tanwani; Nitin Yadav
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Sorry guys, but it is whiskey to be blamed. They sure make tough whiskeys in India.

Anyway, what will we be fighting for? I have some suggestions:

- The right to drink in the house and in front of kids
- The right to buy beer in States at the cost price at which it is available in Union Territories such as Delhi and Pondicherry
- The right to drive after being drunk

Please add to your list.

Always,
Harsh Vardhan Thakur

———————–

From: Manish Jain
Sent: Thursday, August 23, 2012 4:57 AM
To: Sharad Sharma
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal; Mukesh Tanwani; Nitin Yadav
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Guys, Pls don’t include me in these emails. My wife and I are happy with each other and have equal rights at home.

I have heard about FUCKs and my wife says they brainwash people. She says I can join carnatic music classes if I want to but not FUCKs.

Thank you all.

Best wishes,
Manish Jain

———————–

From: Sharad Sharma
Date: Wed, 22 Aug 2012 11:02:40 +0530
To: Manish Jain; Mukesh Tanwani; Nitin Yadav
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal
Subject: RE:RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Looping in..Manish, Mukesh and Nitin to join in on the FUCKs.

@Bijoy: Can you meet them tomorrow somewhere in Gurgaon and take them through the advantages of FUCKs?

If they are in, our organization could be seven member strong.

Warm Regards,
Sharad Sharma

———————–

From: Bijoy Singhal
Sent: Tuesday, August 21, 2012 5:45 PM
To: Sharad Sharma
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal;
Subject: RE:RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Hi Sharad,

Apologies for the delay in responding.I thought we might as well wait for Vineet to come back from Bulgaria.

Thanks for taking the time to convince us on the benefits of FUCKs.Both Harsh and I are impressed and would like to be part of the movement. Though I agree with you that FUCKs has been in recent times more about the to-and-fro between us men. It is time we took it beyond the men now.

Regards,
Bijoy

———————–

From: Bijoy Singhal
Sent: Monday, July 16, 2012 12:23 PM
To: Sharad Sharma
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Anytime between 2 – 5 pm sounds good. That’s when we get buy-one-get-one free at Barista. Let me block my calendar right away.

Looking forward (as always).

Regards,
Bijoy

———————–

From: Sharad Sharma
Sent: 16 July 2012 12:01
To: BijoySinghal
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur; Vineet Duggal
Subject: RE: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Thanks Bijoy,

Let me know your availability for tomorrow i.e 17-07-2012.
Would like to meet you and plan out on how we can meet again.

I understand your convenient times would be convenient times for Harsh as well, considering you will be carrying him to Barista. Pls confirm.

Regards
Sharad Sharma

———————–

From: Bijoy Singhal
Sent: Saturday, July 14, 2012 1:14 AM
To: Sharad Sharma; Vineet Duggal
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur
Subject: RE: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Hi Sharad,

Glad to get connected too. And I am sure Harsh agrees – if he isn’t already drunk on his whisky.

Would it be possible to meet on 17th July at Barista in Metropolitan Mall in Gurgaon, or alternatively we can first have a call on Tuesday and then meet up later on.

Regards,
Bijoy

———————–

From: Sharad Sharma
Sent: 13 July 2012 12:30
To: Vineet Duggal; Bijoy Singhal
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur
Subject: RE: FW: FUCK Meeting

Thanks Vineet, I am thinking of going ahead with the meeting while you are in Bulgaria. And I assure you it is not with the intension of saving the per-plate cost at the venue.

Hi Bijoy/Harsh,

Nice getting connected with you, would request you to spare some time for meeting next week for our FUCKs meeting. I can call you guys if required to take you thro’ our presentation.

Regards
Sharad Sharma

———————–

From: Vineet Duggal
Sent: Thursday, July 12, 2012 8:36 PM
To: Sharad Sharma, Bijoy Singhal
Cc: Harsh Vardhan Thakur
Subject: FW: FUCK Meeting

HI Sharad,

Since I am travelling, I would recommend that we either don’t have this meeting this month or you have it with my friends Bijoy and Harsh (who are marked in this email).

Bijoy is a well rounded man and will know what rights we should be fighting for. As for Harsh, it should suffice to say that he likes his whiskies.

Do note that you can increase the attendance by 25% if you wait for a month to comeback from Bulgaria.

Regards
Vineet

———————–

From: Sharad Sharma
Sent: 12 July 2012 12:40
To: Vineet Duggal
Subject: FUCK Meeting

Hi Vineet,

As per our discussion on the phone I propose that the FUCKs meet so that we can start fighting for our rights. Kindly spare some time for the meeting as per your convenience.

Also attached is the introduction ppt of FUCK.

Regards
Sharad Sharma

Attachment: FUCKs_Intro.ppt

Naturaly, I never really visited any singles bars till I was 35 years old – that was two years back. By mid-thirties a married man is only seen as a money making machine. Don’t believe me? You think ATM means All Time Money or Automatic Teller Machine? To tell you the truth…ATM means “A Thirty’s Man”…yes, that’s what it means.

By mid-thirties the parents have given up on you, the wife has started ignoring you, and your kid starts believing that you are the designated driver of the household. Ask any mid-thirties man and he would agree. If he refuses, ask him again and watch him breakdown into tears. If after the second attempt the man still doesn’t breakdown, inform the police immediately. Chances are he has killed his whole family and buried them in the backyard of the house.

Anyway, coming back to when I was 35 years old….I was getting lonely. Work in office was exciting….but that didn’t mean that my colleagues were coming back home with me. This results in a real low for active men like me. Want to know the symptoms of a man going thro’ a low – look out for a man in front of television watching sport. I know every man watches sport (some with beer) almost every day – yes, so we go through lows every day. The higher your age, the lower you go.

During one of such lows, I heard an angel speaking. The angel was none other than my wife: “Rajan, I am thinking of spending 15 days each with your mom in Madurai and my mom in Kerala.”

“Yes? When?”

“Does tomorrow sound too soon?” She enquired, as if waiting for my approval.

“Sure why not.” I was trying to hide my smile. And suppress my urge to jump out of the sofa and shout out my excitement.

“Good to know that you agree. I have already booked my tickets – so will be away for 30 days.” Rekha replied.

I was happy. But I also saw an opportunity to extend this happiness for beyond 30 days. I immediately shot back: “Only 30 days? Isn’t Rhea celebrating a 45 day vacation?”

“Yes.” Rekha seemed confused.

“Stay 10 more days with your mother and add five days to your stay with my mother – and you have a 45 day vacation.”

Rekha readily agreed. And I had won myself 45 days of freedom – at the speed of today’s youngsters in these 45 days I could fall in love with somebody, have a kid and then separate as well.

In a jiffy Rekha and Rhea were gone from my life. On day 1, I was ecstatic….I filled up my fridge with beer, stocked my Whiskeys and Vodkas, bought all kinds of potato chips that Rekha forbade in the house, stocked up on KFC Chicken on which we had an embargo on under Rekha’s rule and what not. Every rule designed and implemented in my house to ensure I didn’t derive any pleasure in my life was broken. I was no longer under the rule of Idi Amin.

On Day 2, I called my friends for a party and they promptly landed.

On Day 3, I called my friends again and they promptly refused. Apparently, it gets boring to party in the same place every day. I just reminded them that they were getting up beside the same woman for the last decade or so, smirked and kept the phone down.

On Day 4, I decided to go to a singles bar. My first stop was a singles bar in Sector 29 in Gurgaon (wouldn’t want to name it for fear of a defamation case).

Call it inexperience but I landed at this Singles Bar as early as 7 pm. I hadn’t realized that in the last 15 years pubbing had changed – people now didn’t have to get back home before 9 pm.

Having already made the trip, I decided to have a few beers and hang around. At around 11 pm, the place started to fill up. At first it was only men who entered and loitered about. Many like me were concerned that there weren’t enough women in the place.

Around 11.30 women started coming in. They were delayed perhaps because they had to ensure that their kids, parents…and husbands had gone to bed.

There is a good reason why these singles bars are dark. It was plain difficult to see the women who had entered. It was almost as if I were a Batman, who in spite of being a super hero has only had to deal with silhouettes in his life.

I tried to strike a conversation with one who was sitting next to me and drinking like the World was about to end, and she had promised Gabriel that when she next met him at the heaven’s gates she would be sloshed.

“Hi, what are you thinking?” I asked.

“Whiskey?!”

“No…no…I asked what are you thinking?” I repeated for her convenience.

I think these singles bars have it loud for two reasons – so that one gets the feel that the conversations are going on long and nice (due to all the repeating) and so you don’t realize how hoarse or non-sexy the woman sounds till you hear her say ‘Good Morning!’ in your bed the next day.

“About my ex-husband.” Finally the lady understood and replied.

“Bad divorce?” I showed concern.

“Yes…this whiskey was bought from the last money I had.”

“Shucks…that’s bad. No alimony?” I was under the impression the women almost always ended up with a nice, fat alimony.

“No…we split the house 50-50.”

“That’s good. You can probably sell the house and make some money.” I wasn’t liking the direction the conversation was taking but I considered it foreplay.

“Not really…when I say 50-50 I mean he got the insideand I got the outside.”

“That’s painful. Not thinking of re-marriage?” Now I really wanted to finish this conversation and move on to the next lady.

“I did try. My bad luck, on a blind date session thro’ a website I landed with my ex-husband.”

“Hard luck indeed.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. On the pretext of visiting the washroom, I moved to another area of a singles bar. In the dark, sat a lady in her mid 20s staring at the lights above her head.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked.

“The seat is available. Only my heart was taken. Ripped apart, I must say.”

“Sorry?” I repeated. I didn’t know people were so forthcoming in a singles bar. Perhaps it’s the alcohol…perhaps it’s the loud music…perhaps it’s a mix of both.

“Ex-husband?” I tried to show sympathy.

“No…ex-boyfriend.”

“Why did he rip your heart out…I mean what happened?” Showing of sympathy continued.

“He is a heart Surgeon with Apollo hospitals you see…he does this for a living. I should have known.” There was sarcasm in her voice…sarcasm dipped in a lot of alcohol.

“Why didn’t it work out? I mean, you look pretty and intelligent?!” In my 20 years of flirting, I have realized that no woman can resist being called pretty. And if you add ‘intelligent’ to the sentence your chances of getting laid increase by 25%.

“We weren’t compatible at all….don’t know why I even pursued him for six months.” The lady motioned the waiter to get her a refill.

I was not liking how this conversation was going….and needed another drink to continue my sympathies – and motioned for a refill. In the last 30 minutes I had already felt like Mother Teresa twice.

With nothing to ask her, I pursued the same angle: “Why, what was wrong?”

“Like I said we were incompatible. I am a Gemini and he was an asshole.”

At this moment, I got up and said I had remembered an important errand and excused myself. It was still 11.30 pm and if I rushed back home straight I was sure I could watch a movie before going to bed.

Within a week I was bored and was willing to give up on my independence in return for having Rekha and Rhea back home. They did come back….but after 45 long days.

Back in the cave man days, finding a spouse was easy. One only had to go hunting and come back with a huge, dead deer on your back and place it in the corner of the cave. The woman, who obviously couldn’t go hunting and thus was dependent on a man for food, would come closer and whisper in the man’s ears: “How about we share this deer, and in return I will provide you warmth during the night.”

Bingo! The spouse was found.

Back in those days, the men who couldn’t hunt, ride a horse or throw a spear were called ‘vegetarian’ and they had to make do with the grass, leaves, and fruits that grew around the cave.

This concept called ‘vegetarian’ was also the reason behind the origin of another concept called “Gayism.” A ‘vegetarian’ man (at that time, they were defined by their inabilities & not by choice of what they wanted to eat) would suddenly have the urge to have meat and thus would be forced to whisper in another man’s ears: “How about we share this deer, and in return I will provide you warmth during the night.”

Then we started progressing – got out of caves, didn’t have to hunt any longer, women started taking jobs, stopped living as communities and moved to individual houses etc. All of this put undue pressure on the man to get a spouse. Now, women stopped being easy. Probably because the food was always available in the fridge – vegetarian or non-vegetarian.

Like how a camel can go without water for days on ends, women can also go without sex for months on end. But that’s not true for the men…they need it every day. Unfortunately, back in those days having a woman around was the only possible solution for sex. Inflated dolls, porn sites etc have come in only recently.

And this pressure of finding their woman got to the men…and to get out of the pressure, the men started smoking & drinking & joining clubs where all the men could form a support group and help each other out (the gay revolution took wings here too).

This went on for some time. They say that when a man is pushed to the wall, he retaliates. Once he was ready to burst open, the man decided to go out and find a woman for himself. This was referred to as beginning of “picking up of the women.”

Over the centuries, various method were followed with various levels of success.

By the 1970s, picking up of the women was templated. One only had to visit Singles Bars, and wait for a lady to do one of the two things: 1) Take out a cigarette 2) Take the last gulp from her wine glass

When the lady took out her slim, long cigarette, etiquette demanded that the man rush to offer her the light. This was the only, money-less conversation starter available. The small problem was that there were 11-12 men waiting for this lady to take out her cigarette…and all of them would pounce with their lighters aflame. Back in the 1970s, this led to many women being burnt alive in Singles Bars only because they took out a cigarette…sometimes even the Bar itself would be gutted.

Since the free option was so crowded, a man could also wait for the lady to finish her glass of wine and walk up to her and say: “Miss, may I buy you another of the same?” Women being women, the answer was almost always: “Yes.”

Both these methods of picking up women came under strict scrutiny by the respective Governments. Already reeling under the pressure of population explosion…the Governments devised plans to NOT let the man and woman meet. In case you didn’t know the “No smoking in public places” and ‘No drunk driving” rules were introduced by the Governments to make sure man and women don’t meet and thus don’t result in kids.

This forced the men to look for women in places where no smoking and drinking was allowed. These were Clubs/Institutes where they could find like-minded people such as – stamp collectors, karate lovers, salsa dancers, Star Wars lovers etc. The advantage of this approach was that once a man and woman met, they could spend their whole life collecting stamps together or doing karate, or whatever it was that interested them. Most of the time people who met via this route lived happily ever after…except of course when one of them picked up a new hobby.

With time, more and more women started taking up jobs. One would expect the women to start taking the lead in initiating the conversation with men. But unfortunately, that didn’t happen. The onus of starting the conversation even today rests with the man.

As the days rolled by, the men who didn’t have the balls to initiate conversation, introduced their own way of sourcing women. They called it Personal Ads. Personal Ads were received well by the women initially, and that’s because none of the Personal Ads ever said anything bad about the advertiser. An average Personal Ad looked like this:

I am a self confident man, and you should be the same. I am not keen in meeting women still reeling under the emotional problems from previous relationships – you should have gained your peace. Your age is not important to me as I am looking beyond the physical. You should be a college educated, financially independent, liberal minded woman. I prefer that you don’t have kids because I also don’t have any. I live in Delhi-NCR and expect you to be somewhere nearby because I am not interested in a long-distance relationship. If you see yourself in this description, and are interested in meeting an intelligent, intellectual man, please contact me.

Soon enough the women saw through the Personal Ads trick and stopped responding.

By the 1990s, the women workforce in corporate had increased significantly providing the men with one more avenue to pick up women. Today, office space remains the most prominent place to pick up women. For some its bad news, but for those gunning for married women it isn’t bad news that more than half of the woman workforce in the corporate are already married. A married woman is also the most vulnerable in the office. For her, the office space – where everybody dresses up well and aren’t in their pyjamas, discusses stuff more important than prices of rice and pulses, argues over deadlines and not over why and how the milk was split – appears to be a very romantic place.

As for conversation starters with unmarried women in office, you can always call for a meeting to discuss the next upcoming deadline.

Note: If you are married or unmarried man looking for a woman in your life, try your office first.

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For those who don’t know, Sivakasi is a hyper active town with a population of less than 5 lakhs yet supplying 90% of all firecrackers, 80% of all safety matches and more than 50% of all offset printing in India.

I was 14 years old – all of these 14 years were spent in cities such as Jamshedpur, Jalandhar, and Kolhapur. On the fateful year – 1989 to be precise, my parents decided that I should spend some time with my maternal uncle’s family. My uncle Mahalingam was into selling paper (of 100s of kinds) to all those offset printers who were his clients.

Mahalingam uncle and my aunt considered me as that ‘City Boy’ who needed a lot of help to adjust to life in Sivakasi. And they tried their very best to make my 15 day stay comfortable. Unfortunately, they couldn’t help me with one thing…back then, houses in Sivakasi didn’t have toilets. Yes, you read it right…they didn’t have toilets. The folks in Sivakasi were so busy working (mind you Jawahar Lal Nehru called Sivakasi the ‘Little Japan’ of India) that they found allocating space to toilets, an unnecessary wastage.

As a result, my uncle’s house also didn’t have a toilet. To top it, he lived in the city center.

This is what was missing in my uncle's house

“Number one or number two?” He enquired.

“Just tell me….I don’t want you to know what I am going to do inside,” I replied in jest.

“Son, it depends. Tell me…number one or number two?”

“Hmm…number one.”

“Just head out on to the next lane and wait for it to be empty. The best times for this is between 2 pm to 4 pm…the siesta time.”

“Whattttt?” I just couldn’t believe my ears.

My uncle smiled.

“Don’t worry, we have a better arrangement for number two.” I could see that he was confident that his solution for number two was better than that for number one.

“And what if it were number two?”

“Hmm…in that case, here take this one rupee coin and head straight for the R.M.S Road, the very next street…they have a public toilet there. Tell the guy sitting outside that its number two and give him this one rupee and he will allow you inside.”

“Whattttt?” Again, I just couldn’t believe my ears.

Fate had struck twice within the span of 30 seconds. And struck at my genitals…it wasn’t going to be easy getting up.

With a heavy heart, I walked out of the house, onto the next lane and waited for it to be empty (it was a long wait)…and then emptied my bladder. The moment I was back, my uncle, aunt and their three children were waiting to ask me how it went. To add insult to injury, they were smiling.

That day, I didn’t drink too much water …but still had to rush out at 7 pm. It was a little easier – in the darkness I could merge with the surroundings better. Now I was an expert. The next day, I explored new lanes, new time zones…and it started to get fun. But more on that later.

At around 8 pm, it struck me that I should also be worried about the next day morning. What about number two? So, I had a very light dinner…it surprised my aunt that a 14 year old had such bad appetite. But I wasn’t willing to risk emptying my bowels in my trousers at the age of 14.

At 11 pm, I managed to sleep off the fear. But it was back again when I got up at 6 am. I moved around the house slowly…lest I trigger some bowel movements. I refused the tea my aunt gave me saying I wasn’t into drinking tea. She couldn’t believe it…but I was adamant.

At 6.30 am, my uncle said I could accompany him to the public toilet – this was quite a relief because I was (and still am) very bad at directions and it would have taken me at least an hour to find R.M.S Road, even if it was the next street.

Both of us walked out of the V.K.M street, and walked 1 kilometer to reach the R.M.S street. The whole distance I tried to maintain a balanced walk, lest I triggered any intestinal movements. I tried not to laugh at my uncle’s jokes, which tend to upset him a bit…but I didn’t care. Honor before anything else.

I have tried to re-create the setup that I saw below. There were only three toilets, so there was a queue. One could also take bath (though thankfully, in my uncle’s house there was a place to take bath) and put on some make up in front of the wall-mounted mirror. The cashier took my Rs 1 and allowed me entry.

As I walked in, I saw many men smoking cigarettes outside trying to build up pressure. It also helped that there was a tea stall right next to the public toilets – men who needed a tea to build the force inside could help themselves.

My first public toilet experience was a huge success. I was in and out in less than two minutes. The casher smiled when he saw me return and asked me to come back the next day – and why not, after all it is the two-minute customers like me whom he would prefer for a bountiful business.

On the way back we bought groceries for the day, from the grocery shop nearby.

The next day my uncle didn’t accompany me. Since I wasn’t an earning member, I would ask my uncle for Rs 1 and walk out of the house on my daily chore….it was that simple. The next three days went well…in fact I had started to enjoy the new experience. It was all fine, I told myself. Or at least that is what I thought.

But on the fourth day tragedy struck…the moment I came out of the toilet after spending my Rs 1, my stomach started mumbling again and I had this urge to go back immediately.

“Hi Sir, I just paid you Rs 1 and came out early. Can I go again please?”

“No Sir, for Rs 1 there is only one entry. To enter again, you need to pay me another rupee.”

I wouldn’t say I walked back with a heavy heart…it was in fact a heavy stomach that I walked back home with, asked my uncle for another rupee and walked all the way back to the public toilet to relieve myself. I came back to my uncle’s house a dejected man…but a man who had understood the importance of Rs 1.

This went on for a few days (I had started going there with Rs 2, just in case) and soon enough the royalty wore off. During a casual chat with my uncle on the subject, I asked him: “Is this the only place one can go to?”

“No…there are couple of other options as well. But I thought you might not be so adventurous.”

This pricked the ego of this Rajan. We Rajans are egotists and we don’t take insults sitting down (pun intended). So, I replied: “You haven’t tried me yet, uncle.”

He continued looking into his sheaf of papers and said: “OK then, be ready tom at 6 am. I would suggest you eat a light dinner.”

The next day we had a visitor at 6 am. It was my uncle’s friend Manikam. The three of us took off at about 6.15 am for an adventurous dump taking. Once I started asking questions, I came to know that we were going to a almost dried up lake in the outskirts of the city (Sivakasi is a small city and you can walk your way out of it). We were to take a dump in the lake, wash up in the yet-to-dry parts of the lake and come back home.

As luck would have it, this lake was 3 kms away and I was tired by the time we reached. But when we reached, it was heavenly….a wide expanse of dried up land with little bushes sprinkled all around. Once we were almost in the middle of the dried up lake, my uncle advised me to take a spot behind one of the bushes and relieve myself. The very next moment, he and his friend vanished….probably behind some bushes.

I looked around, found a thickset bush, went behind it and sat down. The next two minutes were very peaceful…nobody in sight, just the chirruping of the birds. Just when I was about to get up I heard some women talking and the voices grew louder with time. I tried to place where they were coming from….and it was from right behind me.

I had two choices – stay put and pretend nothing happened or get up and stand right in the middle of nowhere pretending I was doing something else. I chose the first option.

Now the voices were really close…and thats when I heard: “Why doesn’t he get up? He is still sitting.”

They were talking about me!

But I held my ground…now they were probably 15 meters behind me.

Within seconds I could see them from the corner of my right eye. My uncle hadn’t advised me on the appropriate behavior in such instances. I held my ground…I continued to sit. For psychological comfort, I even closed my eyes.

I heard one woman ask the other: “Do you think he is blind?”

The other replied: “Even if he was blind, I am sure he can hear us. Too much of a coincidence that he is both blind and deaf.”

Now I didn’t need to look thro’ the corner of my eye – I could see them thro’ the bushes. But I continued to hold my ground.

Before they disappeared, the first woman told the second: “Men now a days…can’t they get up when they see women approaching? Phew!”

Now I knew why the women were upset…but it was too late to get up.

Later my uncle confirmed that Rule Number one of taking a dump in the lake is ‘Get up & pull your trousers up when you see a woman.’

For the next seven days, I preferred the public toilets.

It has been twenty years since, but even today my attached toilet finds a mention in my daily prayers.

As you may have understood by now, I come from a family divided over music. And as luck would have it, I got more of my father’s genes and less of my mother’s – the love for alcohol explains this better than anything else.

Not that I hate music. I love it. I love the noise patterns it makes…its a unique and different noise. The noise pattern varies depending on who the composer was – AR Rahman has his own style and so does Ilayaraja.

If only I didn’t get more of my father’s genes, I would have probably cultivated music as my addiction. What a great thing it is for an addiction – it is invisible, and it doesn’t smell. The wives would have never known.

As of today, thanks to my father’s genes I have a liking for alcohol and sometimes women, sometimes money and sometimes fame. Funny, for these are all the addictions those forces grown up men to wear tight pants, grow their hair, pierce their bodies and form music bands. It is another thing that they start off with crazy names such as Def Leppard, The The, Mr Mister and !!! (yes, there is a band called !!! and mind you this band can’t be googled about. Give it a shot, if you will).

If I had started a band, it would have been called “Jammin with Jammy”

They say you are born with a sense for music or you aren’t. I intend to beat that – I have already started working on improving my music sense. As of now my favourite is the music played by ICICI Bank when they put me on hold. Second in line is Yanni’s music played at Maurya Sheraton’s lobby – consistently boring, but pregnant with meaning.

One can’t really get a sense of music without learning a music instrument and that’s why after a good amount of research I have identified Piano as the instrument I am going to learn. I know typing….and the only difference I noticed was that the keys on a Piano don’t have alphabets or numbers on them. How difficult can it be if you already know typing? Wait till I have learnt it. If you leave a nice comment, you will be invited to my first show.

After writing this, realized that I had written about Music couple of years back as well. Read it Here

The other day, Rekha saw a chat message from my ex-girlfriend and caught me: “Who is she?”

““Ah! Just a friend.”

“Have you slept with her?” She was furious.

“Not a bit Rekha. We were up all night.”

Why are we Indians scared to talk about our sex lives. I mean, in my case it was different…but I am talking about an average Indian.

For long my parents made me think that Clitoris was a Greek God and Dick was a type of bird….related to Duck. But I wasn’t to be cowed down…by the time I was 22, I knew what both of these words meant.

After years of reading about it and watching it…one thing about sex has baffled me. Why is it that it is almost always the woman who screams while having sex. Whats wrong with the men? Why shouldn’t the men be screaming as well? As for the women, they scream louder when you walk in on them while cheating.

Then again, I think you should know that I am not against cheating women. In fact in the last two years or so I have not been against any kind of naked women. At least, not as often as I would have loved to.

While on the subject, have you heard of the man who used to steal under garments from houses? When caught & told by the judge that anything he said would be held against him, he said: “Pamela Anderson’s breasts.”

The judge laughed for so long that he thought it wise to let the criminal go. But before letting the criminal go the judge asked him: “So what will you do once I let you go?”

The criminal said: “I will go home and rip my wife’s bra apart. The tight elastic is making breathing difficult for me.”

Friends are of two types – the Jewelry Type and the Clothes Type.

The Clothes Type friends lose color, fade away, grow small etc with time. While the Jewelry type friends remain inert…they don’t react…don’t age. They don’t lose color, fade…in short you don’t out grow them.