Ever been in a fine mess?
Ever been absolutely unsure of the happenings around you?
Ever been left alone in a crowd?
Ever had a stroke of bad luck?
Ever been given a blue rose?
Ever been part of a civilized warfare?
Ever been fooled by somebody’s daily special?
Ever hazarded an educated guess?
Ever been told an important trivia?
Month: June 2004
Ablums…no.. albums. Yeah, albums. I hate albums. Especially if they do not belong to me.
I hate them so much, that I have even stopped visiting my friends and relatives. Here is what happened when I last visited a friend`s place.
It all started because Prakash, my friend wanted to take a bath before we went for a concert. After he slammed the bathroom door shut, I turned towards the India Today lying around and buried myself deep into it. I still cannot fathom what made Prakash`s mother to think that I was bored. She walked up to me, with something that seemed like a pillow from afar, and a treatise on Darwin`s Theory of Evolution from near.
“You have not seen Sonal`s marriage photographs have you?”
Sonal was Prakah`s sister. I hated her. One she was not pretty, and two she hated me coz she thought I was the reason behind her brother`s smoking.
Even before I could lie that I had seen it before, and liked it, she was beside me on the couch. She was excited and understandably so. Sonal was her only daughter and her marriage was probably her biggest single achievement in life. But why the &^%$ did she think I would be interested, I would never know.
“Nice couple, heyn?” She asked.
“Yeah. In fact, I am looking for some girl like Sonal,” I said. I got a cold stare, but the torture went one.
Pointing to a picture of a man and woman who looked like they were straight out of X-Files, she said: “That is her in-laws. Nice people. They even bought me a saree.”
“Wow. Great.”
“Ho..you should see the color of the saree. It is amazing. You don`t get these colors south of Baroda. Will show you the saree next time, I washed it in the morning and it might be wet.”
I let out a sigh. It was a close shave.
“Or would you want to come to the terrace?”
“No aunty, that is fine. Prakash has anyways come out,” I blurted out in sheer desperation. He was my ticket to freedom, and I was going to use him as a human shield wherever necessary.
By now, Prakash had come out. Sort of gift-wrapped in wet towel. He saw me looking thro` the album, and shouted at the top of his voice: “Mama, show him the one where I am wearing the blue suit. Ohh…Jams that`s a killer man.”
I did not make it to the concert. Besides being late, I did not want to go to a concert in blood-stained clothes. If only I had controlled myself….
Yesterday I read review of the Hindi movie Girlfriend. It is about two girls, who like each other and eventually develop sexual attraction towards each other. A prominent word used in the review was `lesbian`.
Being the innocent man, that everybody knows me to be, I went out looking for what the word meant. I asked a lady who was sharing the table with me at a restaurant.
Me: Madam, who is a lesbian?
She: If I like to have sex with a woman, I would be a lesbian.
Me: Wow. Does that mean I am a lesbian?
She: Not exactly.
Me: But I love to have sex with women!
She: But you are a guy and you cannot be a lesbian.
Me: Why not? I want to be a lesbian.
She: Even if you want to, you cannot.
Me: But I do not like having sex with men.
She: Yeah, if you liked it, you would be gay.
Me: You mean I am not gay?
She: No. You are not.
Me: You mean I am neither a lesbian nor a gay.
She: Yes
Me: Then, who am I?
She: Hmmm…you are straight.
(I straightened up a bit)
Me: Blame it on my not so flexible spinal chord.
She: No stupid. If you were a man who loves to have sex with woman, you would be straight.
Me: That`s a very simple word. Isn`t there a hep term? Something like `gay` or `lesbian`.
She: No.
(I realized she was losing interest, so I swerved to the flirting zone..a place where I hold sway)
Me: By the way, are you alone.
She: No
Me: I am off to the beach for a walk, would you want to join me?
She: No.
Me: Are you trying to avoid me?
She: Yes.
All of a sudden everything fell in place. She was a lesbian and like me was not turned on by the other sex. “Hard luck baby,” I told myself, and walked away into the sunset.
I would never know how many guys will hate me for this. Neither would I know, how many girls will pretend to hate me for doing a piece on the art of farting.
It is only today that the Gauris and Prithvis sent up by India and Pakistan are making all the noise. But it has not always been like this.
There was a time, when a well-timed fart would have been loud enough to attract attention. Believe me. Or ask any of my uncles.
In the days of the yore, the dal-roti diet ensured that there was enough of celebration going on. Diwali or no Diwali, there were enough fire-crackers.
There were the loud ones. Then there were the silent ones. And the adage “barking dogs seldom bite” holds true for farts too. In my 20 year association with the art of farting, I have never heard one that smelt bad. It was always the unseen, unheard that did the maximum damage to the nostril hair.
For me, it all stared one day when all of a sudden, without any prior intimation, one loud one escaped my system. As my luck would have it, it happened when everybody was silent and the teacher was about to take attendance. It brought me instant popularity. Now, the teachers knew me by name.
I took immense pride in the commotion it created. I would let go one, and look out for the reaction. I would suggest you try it out sometime. I can assure you that the feeling of relief when combined with the happiness of seeing the expression on other’s faces change is a potent mix.
Perhaps, I will never understand why people shy away from farts. Each one of us is guilty (is guilty the word?) of letting go, once in a while. Man. Woman. Boy. Girl. Everybody. Why then, do they shy away?
I have never heard of anybody being sent to the guillotine because he/she farted. Well, yeah, many sent to the guillotine have known to be good farters.
In fact, the Indian Judiciary is witness to instances when the man in the witness box has accepted to a murder but has refused to own up to a fart.
There are all kinds of farts. The sneeky. The smelly. The dubious. The burst. The Installment. The push through. The bulbous. The short and sweet. The blink-and-miss. You name it and the practitioners of the art, have it.
But now, the art is fading. Something like the Murals ….everybody loves it but nobody can afford it.
If you want to join the Fatso Fart Federation, just mail me at jv.rajan@gmail.com and we could meet up for some fire-crackers.
Somehow I do not have a liking for foreign products. They are made to suit the conditions out there.
The latest product that has disappointed me (and as a result will see a significant drop in sales) is this so-so foreign deodorant that I bought. Entices the girls all right, but by noon I start smelling like an onion. You might argue that an onion is an aphrodisiac. Yes, I agree. But what is the point in me alone reaching a high?
The deo is custom-made for Italy, the country where it was made. And Italy is a cold place, just like its coldest export to India so far – Ms Sonia Gandhi. There you would sweat less; that is unless you are a Roberto Baggio.
I was misled by the fact that the deo was popular in Italy. On the contrary, Indian made Axe-effect, has been amazing. The fragrance lingers on till evening.
Till this can of deo gets used up, I have been reduced to humming the Bryan Adams song “Please forgive me.” I wonder why Adams had to sing this song. After all, he is from Canada and people don`t sweat much!
While it is a known fact to my friends that I would have preferred a short life in the Indian army than a long life out of it, not many know my favourite four lines. Well, these lines became my favs…only after Nameet told me. Nameet is a good friend of mine from Bangalore.
And the lines are –
If I die in a combat zone,
Box me up and ship me home.
Pin my medals upon my chest.
Tell my momma I’ve done my best.
Categories
Ten things I want to do
This is a borrowed idea. Mr Mohan, a colleague and a friend mentioned that I should write about the ten things I want to do before I breathe my last. And here we go – 
1) I want to pair-a-jump with my girl, and when there are a few kilometers to go, I want to close my eyes and kiss her. A free-wheelie. She is sitting beside me even as I write this.
2) I want to walk into an old age home, sort out the saddest of the inmate and fulfill one of his wishes. I know it sounds like a Miss Universe contestant talking.
3) I want to walk into a jewel-shop with my mother beside me, and buy her the costliest pendent-diamond combo available. But would that suffice?
4) I want to take my father back to all those army units where he served (from Nathula pass to Station Workshop, Colaba, Mumbai) and show him that time has stood still since he left. You are the dude papa!
5) I want to spend a week in Kendriya Vidhyalaya, Madurai with the Super Seven Group – my school gang involving Rajah, Arun, Meenakshi, Selva, Muthu (2) and Chinta. Do we still know who sent the bomb hoax letter to the Princi?
6) I want to meet the first love of my life (if I can call her that) and see how many kids she is a mother of. Would be a funny sight.
7) I want to meet one Nevil Stephen, a MA English student at the American College, Madurai, in 1997. He is single-handedly responsible for me being a journalist today. Donno to thank you or not.
8) I want to meet the Brigadier who at Staff Selection Board, Infantry Road, Bangalore, after trying a host of tests on me, said, I would not make a good Army officer. Just to tell him what a good officer he let go 😉
9) I want to be the one to accompany my son/daughter on his/her first day at school. I still remember my father doing that for me.
10) I want to take Rekha`s parents on an all-India tour and prove that their daughter landed a good catch. She is still sitting beside me.
My hats off to Google`s G-mail. Incase you are interested, you could mail me at jv.rajan@gmail.com
I am somehow appreciative of the way Google works. Their philosophy seems to have two prominent phrases
1) Keep it simple
2) Surprise the suckers
While the `keep it simple` bit is for users like you and me. The ‘surprise the suckers` bit is for its competitors like yahoo and hotmail. I would not be sure if Google considers Indian mail services as its competitors.
As a knee-jerk reaction Yahoo has increased its mailbox space to 100Mb. Hotmail is keeping is cards close to its chest. As for all those mailboxes with 4-5-6 Mb of space, only God can come to their rescue.
But what will I do with so much space?
– I will not have to delete any of the mails
– I can save huge files in my inbox, and download them later
– Me and my friends could use this as a file transfer system (I upload the file, and my friend downloads it)
There are some amazing features on g-mail. And if you want an invite, mail me…and and as and when I get offers from Google, will consider you. 😉