Month: July 2007

These are originals and not lifted from anywhere. When somebody as intelligent as Jammy sits down and comes up with PJs, he is bound to raise some heavy questions. For example –

Do dining chairs actually dine?

(I say heavy questions because of the font size and nothing else)

Here are more –

Why does Gillette`s Mach III have three blades?
Fans have three blades too…did anybody complain?

Why are they called Bean Bags?
Coz they have bean there and done that!

How do you have porn flakes?
Easy. Pour milk into a cup, drop some corn flakes & watch ‘Angels on fire`.

Does Hell have seasons?
If yes, how do they kindle the fire during rain?

If wind mills are powered by wind, why are rice mills only powdered by rice?

“New broom sweeps well.”
How does the broom know it is new? Shouldn`t the phrase go: ‘Individual with new broom sweeps well`?

Other interesting reads

# How to create your own jokes
# Jammy’s sex life exposed!
# Making full use of the bath tub
# Am I a lesbian?
# Television & SEX are related

Entering a new house is an art in itself. Way back in 1997 when my father built a house in Madurai from his retirement funds, he made a cow enter the house first. I am serious. As if getting a shepherd and paying him Rs 100 wasn`t enough the cow was forced to stay inside till it emptied its urinary bladder. Again, I am serious.

I hadn`t known of my fathers plans and when I tried stopping him he said being Hindus, and being people who respected cows, and being shepherd by profession (my grandfathers were all shepherd – and very rich with up to two thousand goats, sheeps & cows) it only made sense that the cow entered the house first.

For those who don`t know, a cow`s urine is considered as pure as the water from the Ganges.

When a dejected me was standing in line to get into the house, the shepherd came out of the house shouting “Eureka!” and sprinkled cow urine on all of us. The die-hards asked for some in their palms and drank it. Again, I am serious.

I left for college the next day and forgot all about it. That`s till my mother reminded me of the incident and said maybe I should do something similar before entering my new house in Gurgaon.

“But mom, this is not our house!”

“That`s ok. Aren`t the landlords Hindus?”

“They are. But they are Bengali Hindus and I don`t think their grandpas were shepherd.”

“That shouldn`t be an issue. They will be fine with it if they are practicing Hindus.” My mother was adamant. I was glad she was in Madurai and not in Gurgaon to supervise the house warming ceremony.

“Besides, unlike our house this is in the first floor…how am I to get a cow here?” I asked. How was my mom, going to tackle this googly…I wondered.

“Don`t you have a lift?”

“We have, but it can only carry six people at a time.” Shucks, what was I getting into?

“Some cows are known to walk the stairs. Get the right cow and you can still have a sacred house warming ceremony.” I knew my mother could hold court with the vegetable vendors…but didn`t know she could do the same with a Senior Product Manager from a leading internet based products company.

“Mom…let me put this straight…there are no cows in Gurgaon. Despite the name this place is not a village.” I could feel my anger reaching my horns…oops…head.

“Then, how about goats? Or a sheep? They can fit into any lift.”

I banged the phone and broke my Nokia N70 – a few micro seconds later I realized I was not speaking into a landline.

The persistent lady that she is, she called back after a few hours – from a PCO so that I don`t recognize the number and cancel the call.

“So, decided on the house warming plans?” She re-opened the conversation.

“Yeah, the landlord`s family is coming in on Sunday morning to sprinkle Ganga Jal all over the house.”

My satisfied mom bade farewell.

I wasn`t lying to my mother because soon after my Nokia phone had started working I had got a call from my landlord saying they would want to visit and sprinkle Ganga Jal all over the house on Sunday. Being a Bengali, he pronounced it Gongo Jol.

I had assured my landlord that I will be home on Sunday and they can come in the morning.

All this happened on Friday. On Saturday morning I shifted into my new house…and in the evening I celebrated with a peg of whiskey. Just that, I had left the windows open and a creature of the night fell into my glass of whiskey. In an attempt to remove the insect with my finger, I ended up sprinkling whiskey all over the house ….12 hours before the Gongo Jol arrived.

As betal would have asked here is today`s question – Which is the best liquid to purify your new house?

Important Notice: Dear landlord, if you happen to read this and decide to throw me out, you will be the first to take these writings seriously. This website is all about exaggerated lies!

Ibibo is looking for good Product Managers – guys & gals who are willing to own products and breast the finishing line with it.

At Ibibo, being a product manager means you own the product and are responsible for every detail on & around it. Unlike other places, you don`t need to get permissions from 17 different people and six different departments to make a small change. Some freedom?

Being the complete owner of the product means that your boss can`t steal your thunder…but then it also means that when the lightening strikes…there is no lightening conductor to help you stay alive. Some thrill?

The position will be in Gurgaon, and you need to have some grounding working on/with the internet. To find out if you have a chance, give me a call at 09971996581. If you are reading this at midnight, and don`t feel like disturbing me (God bless you!), mail me at jv [.]rajan[@]gmail[.]com…will call you back.

Holding back for some reason? Here is a sprinkling of some of the people you will work with – Sunandini, Uma Iyer, Rahul Razdan, Shashwat, Bharani, Ruban…and of course Jammy.

I am serious. For once.

Update @ 10.45 a.m. on 14th July: Thank God I gave my mail ID, else would have been woken up by three people in the middle of the night. Yes! Have got three responses already.

“A man carrying lakhs in an autorickshaw, an armed robber on a motorcycle, and a death. All on the busy road connecting Delhi and Noida around 3.30 pm on Wednesday. Minutes before his death Santosh had withdrawn Rs 8.65 lakh from a bank in Noida. The police said the accused, identified as Anil, followed Santosh from the bank, shot him and tried to flee with the booty.” (Courtesy: Hindustan Times) Full Story

I read the above news item on 4th July and asked myself: “Will the meek, 165 cms tall Jammy survive North India?”

My alter ego, the weaker (and meeker) of the two, replied: “Not if you get out of a bank or an ATM with a huge sum of money.”

The reply was some solace…after all, how often do you see a married man get out of a bank with a huge sum of money? I am discounting the times when wives are with them….and the next stop is the beauty parlor.

“I am safe”, I told myself and resigned to my new job at www.ibibo.com.

On 8th July my broker called me up and said that I will have to bring in Rs 75,000/- (Advance for my house, the first month`s rent and the broker commission) to a Hotel called ‘Don` at 7 p.m. the next day.

I readily agreed, but on my way home from the office that evening I began to shudder at the possibilities. What if the whole act of showing me a house and arranging a meeting with the landlord was actually a plan…and this was a trick they played on every 165 cms tall, south Indian who came to make a decent living in North India?

On the way back, I told my office driver that I didn`t have Rs 75,000 at home…and I had no plans of withdrawing the same from a bank. He looked surprised…and I am sure he wondered why I was telling him all this. I didn`t tell him that I would be going to Hotel Don with Rs 75,000 the next day – what if he was part of the ploy?

During my dinner at the guest house, I asked the gentleman (I call him gentleman because he walks really gently…and it takes him two-chappati-eating-time to serve one chappati) serving me food: “Which fool will keep Rs 75,000 in the guest house?”

He gave me a blank stare…but I had made my point. I was now sure that he didn`t know about the Rs 75,000 I had in my laptop bag up in my room.

At about 11 p.m. when I went to bed, I stuffed the Rs 75,000 in my shorts pocket – now I understand what my father meant when he said “those with money don`t get a peaceful night`s sleep”. The huge bundle didn`t allow me to sleep in my favorite position – the position Kate Winslet had chosen while posing nude. (If you noticed, she is six months younger to me…but that doesn’t irk me. What irks me is the fact that she has had more sex in spite of being six months younger).

As luck would have it, at 12 midnight we had a blackout…and the lights I had kept switched on to spot a robber as soon as he entered the room…went off. I lay still for a while thinking if the man serving me food had come to know of the Rs 75000. I waited for two hours but nobody knocked on the door…my trick had worked after all.

Around 2 p.m., the bulbs lit up again and I decide on a ploy to stave off any robber threat…I decided to hide the money in a not-easy-to-spot place. I looked around the room and spotted two used toilet paper rolls – when one bullshits a lot, one uses a lot of toilet rolls.

I divided my money into two and inserted it within the rolls and placed them neatly in the dustbin – the last place I expected the robber to look into. The night went on peacefully – I slept like a baby….just that I wasn`t wearing diapers.

The next day at 6 p.m. I told my driver to take me to Hotel Don. When he asked me if there was anything special, I said: “Need to have my lunch.”

He didn`t suspect anything, though I did spot a knit of his eyebrows.

As you would have guessed by now…no robber attacked me and I managed to pay the advance and pick up my house key.

Living in North India will definitely be fun – if you can stay alive, that is.

Other Mast Read

# Reporting straight from the Bangalore Airport
# Everybody`s Bin Looking!
# I have never sat on an airplane
# My small family and the Oscars
# Fallen Angels – the story of angels that drank and smoke

Even if you had been in Timbuktu (in Mali) for the last three months, you would have known about the contest surrounding the Seven Wonders of the World. And you can`t just blame Timbuktu`s presence in the probables list…the contest was all over the town, World & television.

My company – the new internet start-up I quit Yahoo for – MIH Internet, has its own version where they ask users to vote for Taj. Quite a timely exercise. If you had been buried in a coffin and got out only now, you can read about this contest here.

Since everybody is busy selecting their own Wonders of the World, I thought why shouldn`t I write about the seven wonders of Jammy`s World.

Here goes –

My Wife

I am not comparing my wife to a monument because I consider marrying her a monumental mistake. Neither am I calling her a wonder of my life because she is a Tun-Tun in the making. She makes this list because we both are chalk and cheese (she being the cheese, coz chalk isn`t sour) and yet she has managed to pull along well. Before our marriage her father once told me that in marriage husband and wife are like the two oxen in a bullock cart – both have to pull together for the marriage to be a success. Today, almost three years after our marriage I wonder if he was hinting that she was a beast of burden. My burden.

My Name

My full name is Jamshed Velayuda Rajan and that`s because my father wanted to have as many religions in my name as possible. While I am glad he didn`t name me Jamshed Velayuda Rajan Singh, so that Sikkism could also be added…I wonder what he achieved by naming me thus. Now, that my father is no more with us — I will keep wondering.

My Blog

My blog www.ouchmytoe.com has brought me name, fame and money. But I wonder how. I wonder what bunch of losers would want to read about the rants of a total loser like me. Talking of my blog, I am today working with a lady called Uma Iyer who claims to have once put my blog under Rediffblog`s Sizzling Blogs section…I wonder why….

My Kid

I wondered when Rhea, my 100-day old baby girl, walked out of a window (she was born out of a Caesarian delivery) on March 29 this year. I wonder when she smiles in her sleep. I wonder when she twirls her hair with one hand and puts her other hand in her mouth – all five fingers. I wonder why Indian Airlines asked me to buy a ticket for Rhea (costing a cool Rs 1700/-) even though she traveled sleeping in my wife`s lap.

My Internet connection

I wonder what life would be without my internet connection. No blogs, no mails, no games, no Google Adsense, no Y! Messenger, and no porn. What would I have done for a living had it not been for the internet? Maybe a sports journalist…traveling the world? For those of you reading my blog for the first time…if my father hadn`t run away from his village in 1965…I would have taken up the family profession – rearing sheep.

My Beer

Many would argue against the need for a high when the wife isn`t around…but believe me…a beer once in a while doesn`t hurt. The only problem I face with beer is disposing the six one-foot-tall bottles the next morning. I wonder why they can`t have a beer concentrate which can be mixed with water and had in a glass. I wonder if it is because after a few beers, it is hard to concentrate.

My handkerchief

This is one aspect of my life you don`t want to be part of. The kerchief I carry is a weapon in disguise…I wonder why the airport security don`t spot it…how the dogs they train don`t smell it. I wonder what my life would be without my handkerchief…a very clean, pure but useless existence?

Other Good Reads

# When I became a cockroach
# Rekha and I are proud parents
# Come to me baby!
# Kissing – how it all began

Topics you thought Jammy never wrote about…

Sex, Nude, Kiss, Porn, Asian,

I was once in love with a girl whose second name was Punjwani. Since she already had a boy friend the affair was brief – so short that I don`t even remember her first name.

Having once loved a Punjwani…it is only right that the second blog Ouchmytoe recommends is Point Blank of Vikram Nandwani (if you still don`t get it…Punjwani and Nandwani rhyme).

Vikram is a Birmingham based cartoonist (wonder if he likes to be called that) and comes up with some intelligent, colorful cartoons. I find them more convincing because most single frame cartoons I have been exposed to are black & white.

Right now he is busy saving the tigers but when he isn`t fighting for the stripes, he uses Adobe Illustrator to create some awesome cartoons. Random sample given below. For more, click here.

I have been searching for a house in Gurgaon for the whole of last week.

While searching for my abode, I have been made to dwell and eventually believe that in Gurgaon…there are no quarters taken and no given. Perhaps that`s why in the last couple of days I have accommodated a third man (my real estate broker) in my life. I have been so accommodative that the broker has found a permanent residence in me – like a Hanuman inside Ram.

If only you had been a little alert you would have noticed that I have been thinking of ‘house` even while typing the last paragraph. Check out some of the words used in the last para – abode, dwell, quarters, accommodated, and residence!

In the last one week, I have realized why the real estate agents are called ‘Brokers` – because they break your confidence. And since you realize the truth only after the deed (not the house deed, stupid) is done, you refer to them in past tense – “brokers”.

The good thing about joining a start-up is that most of your colleagues are starting off too. Tarun – my colleague – has just finished flirting with the brokers. The man from Ambala has been my guide in my mouse…eerrr…house hunt.

I have been as careful as a Florence Nightingale going to fight the plague (I know Nightingale didn`t fight plague!) but still haven`t met success.

“Can I be harsh and mean with the brokers?” I asked Tarun.

“These guys will show you a finger and walk off,” he responded and continued banging on his keyboard.

“If they are such compulsive show offs, why don`t they show me a house and walk off? I can save on the broker charges.” The innocent Jammy questioned.

Apparently, curiosity doesn`t help in real world and all I got from Tarun was a stare and a sharp pencil thrown at me.

Free stationary at office is a real boon,
It turns everybody into a goon.
– Jammy, Bard of Oven (or was that Bard of Avon?)

As I was saying, the brokers have made my life miserable. When I came to Gurgaon, Rekha and I had decided we would take up a house for Rs 15,000/- per month. Now, our budget is beyond the clouds (at Rs 18,000 per month) and we are still looking.

It is not that I just engaged the brokers and didn`t any hard work myself. So far I have seen four houses.

It is not that I didn`t like any of the four houses, I liked one. Just that the broker showing me the house described each room in such a way that I was emotionally scarred for life.

Here are the words used to describe each room, being produced verbatim –

Living Room – “Sir jee, a big living room. If you don`t want your colleagues to be coming home, but can`t refuse…you can send them off from this room itself. Besides, it is airy enough to be slept in on fight-with-your-wife days.”

Bedroom – “You are saying you have a kid…then why do you require a bedroom sir? I am married and have a kid…trust me…those good old days are gone. What if this bedroom is small…I am sure you are not going to play hide and seek here…or are you?”

Study Room – “Sir, this is that peaceful corner that I would prefer when my in-laws are visiting. On an average how long do your in-laws stay per visit? I heard durations are longer when the in-laws come in from far off places…like Kerala for example? Is that true?”

Washroom – “Sir, pleag don`t get me wrong…but I heard you talking to your wife. Looks like you don`t have the permission to smoke in your house. That`s why I think you are going to love this washroom….its got a ventilator too, so that you don`t choke in the smoke.” (I didn`t tell him, that one can never choke on one`s joke…and one`s smoke. Poetic huh?).

Kitchen – “Sir jee, don`t even bother. It is like a gamble…your wife might like it or not. But will that change your life in anyway? No na?”

Servant`s Quarters – “Sir, koi miss-trez hai kya aapke paas? Make her your servant and she will serve you like a King. Imagine having your own sweet little harem!”

The broker`s utility description of the servant quarters was where I snapped. I couldn`t take it any longer…I was now pissed…and walked away. How could he even think that I would make Priyanka a servant?

By the way, my wife Rekha is celebrating her birthday tomorrow (July 5)…any CHEAP gift ideas?

Other Funny Reads

When I became a cockroach
Funny Read: Sardarni`s letter to her son
When I was no longer ‘cute` for the women
Jammy gets exposed!
Making full use of the bath tub