Month: August 2006

On Thursday, 24th of August, Business Line quoted me in an article on Google Adsense & Adwords. As a close friend of mine will agree, the capitalist in me was exposed.

The article was written by Abhinav Ramnarayan, who explored the various ‘Google` strategies advertisers and individuals use to make money.

Incidentally, K Sundararaman, Sales Head, Google-India is also quoted in the same article. It feels good to be quoted alongside ones role model – I worked with him for four years in Sify.

Having spent time on one side (I have been a reporter with Indian Express for close to two years)…it felt good to be answering questions, for a change.

The only grudge is Abhinav forgot to mention my blog url in the article. But then, should I be even complaining?

Footnote (inspired by a real life story): If guy worked for Business Line, and somebody asked his wife: “Where is your husband working?,” what will she say?

Definitely not, “Business Line,” for then the next question will be: “What kind of business?”

Tomorrow, I will be in Madurai for my father`s first death anniversary. Been a little down the last couple of days thinking about those dreadful days. Thought, maybe I should dedicate this post to him – and what better way to make him happy (wherever he is) than letting him know that his son is happy – the way he always wanted him to be.

Ouchmytoe presents some funny quotes on fathers of the World.

By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he’s wrong.
Charles Wadsworth

The time not to become a father is eighteen years before a war.
E. B. White (1899 – 1985)

My father hated radio and could not wait for television to be invented so he could hate that too.
Peter De Vries

She got her looks from her father. He’s a plastic surgeon.
Groucho Marx (1890 – 1977)

Fathers send their sons to college either because they went to college or because they didn’t.
L. L. Henderson

I am determined that my children shall be brought up in their father’s religion, if they can find out what it is.
Charles Lamb (1775 – 1834)

My grandfather once told me that there are two kinds of people: those who work and those who take the credit. He told me to try to be in the first group; there was less competition there.
Indira Gandhi (1917 – 1984)

The moles I planted around the World have reported that the readers want something really serious. I wonder why. When I asked the mole on Cindy Crawford`s face, it said: “Yes, I know…I even heard Drew Barrymore talking about it today morning.”

“What was she saying?” I asked the mole I had once planted on Cindy Crawford`s face. Those were the days when I had the right.

“She was speaking to Alicia Silverstone and both of them felt that you should get into serious writing,” the mole replied.

So here is a serious piece –

The year was 2003 – the time when Rekha and I actually loved each other. Her birthday was fast approaching and I had offered to quit smoking. I wouldn`t have, if I had had enough money to buy her a gift. With no money I decided to quit – and what better gift for a girlfriend than her prospective hubby quitting smoking?

The previous night, as I was walking down the Ashram Road, in Nadiad, Gujarat… a white Maruti van pulled in front of me. Before I realized somebody pinched me from behind. Mind you, I can hold a sword with my bare hands for five hours (with my palms bleeding, of course) but I can never take a pinch. I still remember losing my cool whenever somebody said: “Same pinch!” Anyway, as I was saying…I immediately swooned.

Next I remembered, I was in a dungeon with my hands and legs chained to the walls of a dam. I looked around and it looked exactly how Medha Patkar had explained….it was the Narmada Dam. The side where I had been tied up, was still dry…but just below my armpit (remember my hands were pulled up and tied) there was a hole, the size pin …and water was coming out. What will happen to all those who villagers who would be displaced? Even as I worried, I heard two men walking on top of the bridge…

Man 1: We should find out where the faults lie and shake it up.
Man 2: I agree. Would you want me to go down and check?
Man 1: If you go would you be able to shake it up?

I immediately knew these guys were terrorists and were planning an earthquake. I once had a friend who turned into a terrorist overnight. The poor guy tried to blow up a car and burnt his lips on the exhaust…but that`s beside the point. Ever since, I spotted my friend`s burnt lips…I have learnt to spot terrorists.

As these two men walked past me, I could hear another pair in animated discussion.

Man 3: The Hindu killed my father.
Man 4: What happened?
Man 3: My father was only threatening to self-immolate when some of the TV camera crew people burnt a Hindu and used it to burn down my father.

I immediately knew I had to stop the Hindu-Muslim riots. Most of the riots happened because one side didn`t understand the other. Being the intelligent guy, I knew Man 3 was talking about ‘The Hindu` newspaper.

I immediately knew what to do – I had to stop the flooding happening, I had to stop man 1 & Man 2 from creating an earth quake and I had to stop Man 3 and Man 4 from inciting a Hindu-Muslim riot.

I pulled out the lone cigarette I had. I was going to dedicate my last cigarette to the nation. Using just my mouth I dismantled the whole cigarette into different parts.

1) The filter, which is actually a piece of sponge
2) The tobacco
3) The white paper that the tobacco is rolled in

First I had get out of the chains…I pulled out my car`s left indicator from my pocket (what you probably know is that when it is switched on, it sounds like a time bomb….beep, beep, beep…what you don`t know is that like a time bomb, it can also burst) and using the matches burst the bomb one feet from my face. Luckily nothing happened – I mean, I was a free bird and all but nothing happened to my face.

I then took the cigarette`s filter and inserted it in the small hole in the dam. Having averted a flood, I was now a satisfied man.

Next, I used the lift to get to the bottom of the dam (every dam has a lift that takes you inside the Earth). Man 1 and Man 2 were working on some machinery…I placed the white paper of the cigarette, in which tobacco is rolled, around them and burnt them down. They were too busy with their work to realize. Thus, I saved Gujarat from a severe earth quake.

My next target was to get Man 3 and Man 4 before they started a Hindu-Muslim riot. I rushed up…and reached their cottage. They were drinking – water. When they weren`t noticing, I dropped the tobacco from my last cigarette into their drink. They drank it and died the very next minute. Don`t believe me? Promise. Haven`t you seen all those advertisements saying “Tobacco kills”?

Once I had averted a flood, an earthquake and a Hindu-Muslim riot…I walked back home. On my way back, I found some Oil-for-food coupons and exchanged them for money. Rekha got her gift…and I still smoke.

(ok fine…it`s a take on tit-for-tat, which I have always found to be vulgar)

Ouchmytoe`s previous post on our visit to Mocha has been showcased on Desipundit.com. Ever since it was linked from their home, a lot of people have come to Ouchmytoe…and that`s why…I thought maybe I should return the favor. So, here is a link for Desipundit.com.

Now, I wonder who is sending more readers to the other – Desipundit or Ouchmytoe? 😉

A colleague of mine is leaving our company, which happens to be an IT major. If you have noticed, everybody always talks “Major.” Why don’t we hear somebody say: “My husband works for an IT minor.” Anyway, that’s besides the point.

Thanks to this colleague of mine, who called it quits…Rekha and I landed at Mocha, Chennai’s teenage hangout place, on Saturday evening. For the uninitiated, I think the hangout has been named after “Mocha – the main port of Yemen from where tones and tones of coffee have been exported to the World”.

For those who are weak in Biology…oops…why am I trying to change the subject here. For those who are weak in history, coffee was first discovered in Ethiopia. In the initial days, Ethiopia didn`t allow others to take coffee seeds – only roasted seeds were exported. It took an Indian to smuggle the coffee seeds out of Ethiopia and start a plantation in South India. This started a revolution of sorts and soon Europe in general and France and England in particular became connoisseurs of coffee. Thus were born, the coffee houses.

Why did we go thro` this history lesson now? Just to prove that the concept of coffee houses…is nothing but a bit of packaging done to what we had given the western nations – coffee.

When I was growing up (10-15 years back) we didn`t have coffee joints. If we wanted to have a coffee, all we had to say was: “Grandma, can you make me some coffee?” But then, we never said that because coffee had an old feeling to it …only the elders were supposed to relish it. The young preferred tea.

Anyway, Rekha and I landed at Mocha, at Kader Nawaz Khan Road at 6 p.m. sharp. As we were entering the gates, I saw a 13-year-old girl and maybe a 15-year-old boy kiss good bye. I looked at Rekha and said: “Even you don`t do that when I leave for office.” She just smiled.

Once inside, I felt as if I were a dressed chicken (a dressed chicken is the one without any dress – feathers). I did catch a few glances come our way. To look cool, we held each other`s hands. The last time we did that was while crossing the Nungambakkam High road during peak hours, six months back.

I threw in a few words like “Yo!”, “Cool!”, “Chill!” etc during my conversation with Rekha. She also tried her bit…but apparently these are words that ceased to be cool ten years back itself.

As a change in strategy, we decided to stand still and try catching a few of the words being uttered by the boys in baseball/basketball baniayans and the ladies in dangerously low jeans and noodle strap tops….but to no avail. It took us only two minutes to realize they don`t utter complete sentences – only adjectives & adverbs.

I think it was around this time that we decided not to try and gel with the crowd. Talking of gel, even the L`Oreal gel I had applied to my hair couldn`t be of any use.
As soon as I got the menu in my hand, I gave it a cursory glance. I saw names like Moroccan chicken skewers, Jamaican style chicken, Great Chocolate Shake, and Mexican magpies.

“Are these food items?” I asked the waiter.

“Yes sire. They are.” The waiter was curt. Perhaps, they have been asked to be curt with people above 30.

“Looking at the price, I thought these consumer durables.” I commented, which made Rekha giggle.

“No sire. Some of them are food items. Some of them just drinks.”

“Then why do you call this place a coffee joint? Why not a restaurant?”

Perhaps what I said offended the waiter. In a tone which very much resembled that of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, he said: “Sir, would you like to place the order or not?”

At this point I let go and ordered for some of the costliest items on the Menu – one of the advantages of visiting such places when you are invited.

Ten-fifteen yeas back, I believed that such exotic dishes were found only on the menus of five star hotels…that too only because my father said so. My father`s friend`s friend, who was working for the Garbage Control Board, Tamil Nadu, had once found a five star hotel`s menu.

In this article we have purposefully not spoken about the six others who shared the table because we don`t know about their Ouchmytoe Quotient*.

*To know if you have high Ouchmytoe Quotient, get out of your chair in office, run into your boss`s cabin, pant like a dog and say: “Just wanted to say, Good morning.”

Bed sheets have played an important role in my life. So much, if there were to be a flood in Chennai – and I am not saying this because there is no chance of a flood in this city – and we had to evacuate, the first thing I will grab will be my bed sheet.

Have you ever dreamt of visiting the loo for taking a leak…and midway through got up and found that you were still in bed and your trousers were wet? I have had many such dreams…I remember I used to keep a count by marking the inside of my cupboard`s door using charcoal. When the door became dark…and powdery substance started affecting my school shirts, I had to abandon the practice.

If you haven`t had such dreams, chances are you have never felt the chill in the middle of the night and thus have never felt the need for a bed sheet.

It is in such instances that a cot made of rope (the ones supplied by the Indian Army) scores over a cot made of steel or wood. As soon as the urea-laden water escaped my system, it would trickle down the army supplied blanket and collect in a Dead sea sort of water body just below the cot. I say Dead sea because that`s the sea with the highest salt density.

Initially, I would sleep through the whole watering exercise. With time, I realized that was the best way to get scolded by my father, laughed at by my mother and ridiculed by my younger sisters! As a result, I started getting up as soon as the watering exercise was over. Once up, I would remove the wet trousers and place them deep inside the laundry bag, wear another trouser and be ready for operation salvation.

Next, I had to steal my way into the kitchen and get the used-up sack my mother would stand on while cooking. This sack was used to soak up the Dead sea under my cot. Who said only Moses can part seas? Operation salvation was considered complete as soon as the wet sack was replaced inside the kitchen.

Now, all I had to do was spread my bed sheet wide (in single layer) and pray that it dried before 6.30 a.m. – the time my father returned from his morning exercise. On most occasions, the bed sheet stood by me and dried before 6.30 a.m.. With time, I realized that dreaming about going to the loo, early in the night helped because it gave me enough time for the cover-up operation.

After getting caught a few times by my mother and father…I started outwitting them. Now, I wasn`t getting caught anymore. I continued my dream experience for a year or two…and after that it was all over. It just stopped one day.

Cut to the present:

The other day, I was telling my mother that she should always use a bed sheet in the night because she was not getting any younger. She immediately said: “I know of a guy who used a lot of bed sheets. He would dream of going to the loo and water the bed…so often that the bed sheets had to be washed daily.”

I looked around. Rekha wasn`t there. I could safely take the discussion forward.

“So, who is this guy?” I asked.

“Perhaps, you don`t know that a nature`s call in the middle of the room, in the middle of the night, left to dry by itself…can raise a stink powerful enough to evacuate a colony.” My mother had a bit of I-know-it-all tone.

“So, you guys knew it all the way?” I had to wrap it up before Rekha entered the scene.

“Yes dear. Your papa and I decided to turn the blind eye…so that we don`t break you confidence. It helped you get over the habit.”

Update: How much I hope Rekha turns a blind eye when I look at other girls. Will help me get over the habit.