Month: May 2004

I was new, and was just getting used to the school. Before enrolling me, my father had extolled the merits of the school. Not great in studies he wanted me to excel (aren`t all pops like that?).

I was in grade ten. Her name was Kavita Krishnamurthy. She was my classmate.

On my second day at school, this girl Kavita walks up to me and said, “I have a feeling I love you. Do you love me?”

I did not remember seeing her in the class. I said so. She gave me two days time to think and was gone.

Meanwhile, I had got a few friends and they convinced me that it would be a good idea to agree. “But I do not like her. And I do not even know her,” I protested. “Who cares man,” they shouted in unison.

“Think of all those greeting cards you will get at regular intervals,” Arun said.
“The tasty lunch she would bring from her house,” Rajah exclaimed.
“Those pastries she would buy you from Sundaram Iyengar bakery, Bhoopathy remarked.
“She could also draw paramecium for you on your biology practicals,” Sundaresan chipped in.

The deal was tempting, and when Kavita emerged from behind the shadows two days later, I said, I do. She was ecstatic.

Seeing her excited, I was a little worried. Probably she expected something from me. The same way I had fallen for the cards, lunch, pastries and the occasional help during biology practicals. I even questioned her, and she said it was enough if I was there for her.

I did not a sleep that night. Probably she was a canny lady, waiting to pounce on me with her demands when I least expected them. The demands never came.

We started coming to school a little earlier than usual, and spend time together. Her father was in the Merchant Navy and hence she had loads of stories to tell. As for me, it helped that my father was in the Indian Army. I passed on all those stories my father had told us a hundred times over.

In the evenings, we would go home together. She had a red BSA SLR (a popular model of the early nineties). I had to cross her house to reach mine, but was careful never to go too close to her house. She had said it could be a little dangerous, for her mother was protective of her daughter.

We lost count of days and weeks and later months in our blinded love for each other. I got to admit that the more time I spent with her the more in love I was. My guess is it stands true in any case. What else would explain 50-year-old marriages that we witness here in India?

Everything was hunky-dory till that day we went to a movie together. To tell you the truth, there were two other boys accompanying us. I was taking her out, and since she would not come alone, I had to arrange for two more friends to join us. They were happy to help me. I have a feeling it had something to do with the fact that I was paying for their tickets and would get them the customary popcorn too.

We were an hour into the movie and one of the boys whispered into my ears: “Did you hold her hand?”

“What?”

“Did you touch her?” he rephrased his question for my convenience.

An indignant me asked, “No. Why?”

“Come on man. If you do not even hold her hand, she would never come out with you again,” he said confidently.

I lost track of the movie from then on. The next one-hour was spent in darkness…not knowing what to do. Being a man quite chaste, I did not even hold her hand. I wanted to hold her hand after we got married.

Eventually, the hormones won, and I placed my hand over her’s on the armrest. And that was the end of all. She left the movie in a huff, and refused to see me, leave alone talking.

Two days after the movie episode, I got a letter from Kavitha (we used to exchange quite a few), which said she could no longer be my girl friend. I was shattered. But as it is in such cases, I could not do anything.

Now you know the reason why at 25 (or is it 29?), I am still a virgin. Well, almost.

Who are these rich people? I do not know. What is their general profile? I am not sure.

By definition an NRI could be a guy who works at a gas station in Texas as also Sulman Rushdie who just types into a word processor, yet is probably the 6th richest Indian outside of India. The first are the Mittals, I think.

NRIs could be pickle manufacturers like Lakhubhai Pathak (hope he is the guy..), or great ideators like Sabeer Bhatia, of Hotmail fame. They come in all shapes and sizes. They come in all religions and castes. They are the guys who left rich, who left poor. Who went to relax, who went to make a living. Those that flew the Luxury class and those that kept a cheek on the copper keel while traveling third class in a cruiser.

Over a period of time, I would also come to know that at the higher economical levels, the NRI community interacts with the locals. But at the lower levels, it is at the bare minimum. In fact, just the amount required for survival.

Wonder if they are the ones that responded to the Quit India Movement initiated by Mahatma Gandhi in 1942.

This section will try to squeeze out some humour in and around my office. Please bear with me if you happen to be the subject of the cartoon. When the insult gets unbearable let me know, I will remove the caricature. Just that, I will post a comment that would be even more insulting. Nah…just kidding.FAQs

1) Will this deal with only humour from within this office?
Not necessarily. If I were to depend on humour from within this office, my creativity would be starved.

2) Is this an attempt to malign somebody in office?
No. Would not try that. Would not want these pretty cartoons of mine pulled off the site.

3) What do you get by putting up these cartoons?
The satisfaction of pulling your leg from a very safe distance.

4) Who were your inspiration and what made you think there was humour in this office?
People like Salim, K Venkatesh, Kountinya, Rajamani, Kennedi, Krish, Shyam, Terrence, Nandu and how can I leave out Muthu Pillai – all different kinds of humorists.

5) What if I get thrown out of the office?

I will beg, plead, buy vegetables for home, wash children`s clothes and eventually make it to a glass cabin.

(Thanks to Robin Sam, whose constructive criticism helped me move to actual cartooning – drawing my own caricatures instead of using photographs. I drew these caricatures cartoons myself on Flash).

Click Here to go to the cartooning section

My father always wanted me to marry a lady army officer. He started nursing this wish after I failed the National Defense Academy exam, Combined Defense Services exam and the Armed Forces Medical College exam, in that order.

With my job here in Sify taking me no closer to an Army officer, leave alone a lady officer, my father was forced to redefine his preferences. Now, he wants a 21st century woman.

And who is she? Let us have a looksie –

She is the one who goes to the moon as an astronaut, yet is at loggerheads in the house, failing to understand how a DVD player needs to be operated. The same woman can go to combat wearing the fatigues, but lets out a shriek on seeing a cockroach.

The same woman, who cannot read a map and changes her mind every second. The same woman, who has no addictions – except for lipsticks, shoes, nail-polish and hand bags.

The same woman who claims to hate lies, demanding that I should never lie to her…yet when my moment of triumph comes, fakes an orgasm.

The woman who chooses her own man. The woman who insists she is no hooker hence be treated with respect. That is, till I have bought her dinner.

Papa, you lived in a better World. Pity my son, though.

Dear ladies, my apologies if I have hurt your feelings. And if you think you are a lady, and yet are not like what I have written, check again. If doubts persist, see a qualified doctor.

My office has at least six pregnant ladies. One could blame it on last year`s winter, which must have seen the couples cuddle together in their warm beds.

On extrapolation, one can safely assume that every body was healthy in the winter, otherwise how could they have had all the physical activity.

Now, since everybody was healthy, can the poor doctors and nurses, who work throughout the year, be given a break during the winter? Perhaps.

Agreed, we can close down the hospitals for the three winter months. But what will happen to the emergency cases? According to reliable figures most hospital deaths occur because the patients do not get treatment as soon as they reach the hospital. Thus hundreds will lose their lives in the hospital courtyards.

What do we do to save all those who will die due to the non-availability of doctors and nurses? Don`t let husband and wives sleep together during winter?

Potti, even before you start reading, remember that a tribute from me does not take you places. Atleast not yet. Firstly, sorry for pronouncing your name for the major part of our association as if it were `Potty.` Realised it myself, and corrected it…after debating for 3-4 months if at all I should correct it.

BTW, was looking for your foot prints on the internet and here is what I found

http://potti.blogspot.com

http://themissinglinks.blogspot.com

http://holydiver.blogspot.com

http://blogs.sify.com/neverclever

Pretty smart. Impressive to note that you took to blogging by the middle of 2002.

It was your methodical approach that struck me most. And struck me good. And this led me to a few comparisions. Here you go –

– if you owned a bus service in Chennai, it would have been a KPN.
– if you were an actor you would have been Al Pacino
– if you were a mobile, a Nokia
– if you were into selling bags, you would be a Witco
– if you were a flirt, you would be …actually theres too much competition
– if you were a butt, you would be J Lo’s
– And if you were a sports website, you would be Sify Sports.

Now, that you have a tribute on the Internet, it only makes sense for you to pay back in kind. You know…when Polaris plans to start a sports website…:-))

I envy ornithologist Salim Ali. People believed him when he said he was a bird watcher and spent his life time watching birds.

My parents never allowed me to do it. You are a bad boy, they would chide.

In my school days, my rakhi-sister Latha Jayashree would come in between the birds and me. I could not say no to her…and thus would bring down my binoculars.

In college, the birds were very rare. Guess, it had to do with the fact that my college had fewer trees than the Lady Doak college for ladies, next door. Don’t think it had anything to do with the fact that mine was a boys-only institution.

Now, that I am a professional, I have a Damocles sword hanging around. She is the girl, I might marry. Looks like I will never be able to bird watch in my life again.

If only I could see a big breasted, bed thrasher before I die….