When I first visited his blog (or is it a she?) I read the blog title as ‘Suicide and other pancreas.` On reading it a second time, I realized it was ‘Suicide and other panaceas`.
Smokin Joe, as he likes to call himself comes up with simple cartoons, which even a cartoon can draw. Try out a sample shown below. To check out Smokin Joe`s other cartoons, click here.
The first birthday celebration of mine that I remember is when I was in class four and we were in Kholapur, Maharashtra. Those were the days when non-Maharashtrians could also live in Maharashtra. I remember my father taking me to a small time smuggler operating out of his house to buy me a nice pair of trousers. Apparently this man visited Singapore and brought back to India small items which he would sell at a higher price because of the novelty factor.
Back then we were living off my father`s Armyman salary so new clothes could be bought only for Diwali and birthdays. And my father, like all fathers, wanted the best for his son – a nylon trouser.
My mother on her part took us to the temple in the morning, and made halwa for breakfast.
Since cakes were costly, we would sing Happy Birthday in front of a kadai full of halwa.
Just in case you didn`t know the here is the full lyrics of the Happy Birthday song:
Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear ________________
Happy birthday to you
Happy long life to you, Happy long life to you
Happy long life dear _________________
Happy long life to you
May god bless you, May god bless you
May god bless dear ______________
May god bless you
Though nobody in my family knew the happy birthday song lyrics, we loved singing it together. Like this:
Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Rajan
Happy birthday to you
La la la la la la, la la la la la
La la la la Rajan
La la la la la
La la la la, la la la la
La la la la Rajan
La la la la
With time the clothes my parents bought didn`t suit my taste. And they started giving me money to buy my own birthday clothes. I didn`t realize how I had snatched from them a moment of joy they loved to experience.
With time, mother lost her powers to take me to the temple. I was a grown up now and couldn`t be spotted in a temple. Mother`s halwa on the birthday morning became a mere formality and on one of the birthdays I even remember saying: “Can you just give me some toast? Halwa in the mornings somehow suffocates me.”
That day I broke her heart and stole her moment of joy. Back then, I hadn`t realized that the light in her eyes when I sat down to eat halwa on my birthday morning and she sat across me, was love and not the window`s reflection.
What goes around, comes around they say.
The last few days, I had been worried about spending my 33rd birthday all alone in Gurgaon – at least Rs 18,000 and 1800 kilometers away from people who love me.
Considering that timely calls – at 12 midnight – on one`s birthday are good enough consolation I waited for the calls last night. A call from my wife was ruled out because she was traveling by train and was reaching Madurai (where my mother stays) in the early morning.
Even as I waited for the calls, exactly at 11 p.m. last night (on the eve of my birthday) the Airtel Network conked out and there was no signal on my phone. I checked with a few of my Delhi/Gurgaon friends who were online and they confirmed the outage. At 12.40, the network came back….but my guess is that by then those that loved me had given up and gone to bed.
Since Rekha reached my home early, and my mother got busy with her grand daughter – our daughter Rhea – she also forgot to call me on my birthday.
As I said, today is my birthday and nobody who loves me is with me. Even my girl friend is in Mumbai!
Moral of the Story: Screw the moral. But do wish me.
This post was intended to leave a lump in your throat. If I didn`t succeed don`t blame me, for chances are higher that you aren`t an emotional person.
# Celebrating my birthday in 2007
# Celebrating my birthday in 2006
# Celebrating Happy New Year 2008
# Celebrating a new house in Gurgaon
# Celebrating an Ouchmytoe reader’s birthday
Ibibo, the company I work for, has re-launched Call4Free.
Call4Free is a service that allows you to call, sms or leave a voice mail for your friend absolutely free. Yes! You read it right….absolutely free! To use Call4Free the only condition is that both you and your friends need to be registered members of ibibo. Sign Up Rightaway
I know you have loads of question on how Call4Free is possible, and how to go about calling for free….and that`s why I am reproducing the Call4Free FAQs as is:
Call for Free links your phone to your ibibo account, so you can start calls – or hear from callers – all over India while keeping your existing phone number private. The service also enables you to send and receive SMSs and voicemail.
Only your ibibo friends can do any of those. (Your ibibo friends are those whom you have added as friends, or whose friendship requested you have accepted, on ibibo.com.) If you don’t want to receive calls, SMSs or vociemail from a specific person, please ensure they are not on your friends’ list.
All calls, SMSs and voicemail are completely free for both sender and receiver. You start with a limit of 5 calls you can make per calendar month. Each call can last up to 2 minutes. You can add more calls by inviting new people to join Call for Free. For each person who accepts, you will get 1 extra call.
However, if you send a SMS directly from your phone you will be billed for the SMS according to the rate charged by your mobile service operator for value-added services.
Yes. In order to keep Call for Free completely free, ibibo will serve three forms of advertising to you when you make a call, send or receive voicemail, and receive SMSs. These are: an advertisement you can listen to; an advertisement you can see on your computer screen; and an SMS offer.
Sure. You can choose the ‘Not taking calls’ and/or “Not taking SMS’ option, and no one can call you or SMS while they stay on. When you’re ready to take calls and/or SMSs again, you can choose the ‘Taking calls’ and/or ‘taking SMS’ option.
Please note:
* All mobile numbers will be kept completely private! ibibo will never ever share them with anyone.
* SMS charges applicable as per operator VAS SMS rates.
* Enrolling for these services means ‘opting in’ for receiving calls and SMSs.
Male sexual organs. Yes, that`s what this post is about. You are probably thinking why you should be reading this…well here are my reasons.
You are probably a male but don`t know that and need to be told. Or you are a lady and need to be told about male sexual organs, anyway.
Just in case you didn’t know where to find male sexual organs
Before I sat down to write this article, I did my bit of research. I rented 13 porn movies – two of them had interesting names: ‘The Extra Testicle,` a spoof on Steven Spielberg`s science fiction movie ET , and ‘Inspect Her Gadget,` a spoof on the Hollywood movie Inspector Gadget.
I didn`t really learn much about the male sex organs from the porn movies, because most of the time the focus was on the female sex organ. When I checked with my friend he said that it could be because the target market for porn movies was a male anywhere from 13 years to 90 years old and with nothing to do. Understandable.
For those of you that don`t know the male sex organ consists of Ureter, Seminal Vesicles, Vas Deferens, Prostate Gland, Urethra, Testes & Scrotum…we expand them further:
• Ureter – The narrator (I noticed it rhymes) of the announcement of a full bladder
• Seminal Vesicles – It is the point of origin of all seamen. Wonder why they didn`t name it ‘Ship` or ‘Submarine`.
• Vas Deferens – Definitely not a French restaurant. Instead, more of a captain of the ship because its job is to push the seamen forward.
• Prostate Gland – Since women don`t even have this gland, do you really care what it actually is? (Seriously, only men have prostrate glands)
• Urethra – More like an asshole without the ass. More here
• Testes – The real test of manhood, not because it is the sperm factory but because a hit here means 18 stars (that`s how many I saw)
• Scrotum – Unfortunately not a recycle bag.
Dear women, what you don`t know and we don`t show on our faces is that we men live in fear each day. Each visit outside the house involves saving our sexual organs from leather cricket balls, table corners, lamp post, small children, swinging hands, lady`s purses, lady`s bent knee etc.
We men really don`t make a big deal about this, but it really pains. Forget childbirth pains….have you ever seen ex-India captain Sourav Ganguly writhe in pain after being hit by a cricket ball? Now, don`t you ask me where….for I won`t say “Eden Gardens”…instead say, “on the male sexual organ”.
# Baby sitting isn`t a nice profession
# Battle of the sexes: Father vs mother
# Flirting with an air hostess with a baby in hand
# How Indian wives take their husbands for a ride
# Television – my new friend, philosopher & guide
# Shopping for my baby daughter
Somebody had said “Revenge is a dish best served cold” and they are still trying to find out who said it. Don`t believe me? Check out Wikipedia`s page on ‘revenge`.
In the 33 years of my life, I have had my share of revenges. It all began when I was in class three and somebody stole my scented erasers. In those days, relatives coming from countries like Singapore and Malaysia would hand us cylindrical, scented erasers in fancy plastic containers. The containers would be in various shapes…and mine was a pink peacock. I remember the eraser being a major hit in my class.
As luck would have it, I lost it after a few weeks. An average eight-years-old boy would have suspected the whole World if he lost his scented eraser. But not me, Sir. We Rajans know our enemies when we see them…and that`s why I zeroed in on my classmate Zafar Iqbal. He was the only suspect because my peacock shaped scented eraser had dethroned his Mickey Mouse eraser!
Back then, I didn`t know that revenge was a dish best served cold…so I decided to act the same day.
Like only CIA can do, I laid out my plans. I couldn`t steal his Mickey Mouse eraser because I would have been the prime suspect. I couldn`t cut his eraser into two because the whole class knew that I carried a Topaz blade in my geometry box. And I couldn`t draw moustache on his Mickey Mouse eraser container because I only had sketch pens which were not permanent and he would have easily washed it clean.
After days of thinking, my plan was devised. On the D-day, when Zafar was not near his geometry box, I stole the scented eraser but left the Mickey Mouse container intact. This was to give him the false impression that he still had his eraser with him.
The moment I stole the eraser, I placed it under my armpits so that it lost its scent. With time, I realized the eraser needed a bit of cello-tape if it had to stay there for long. I had to steal my class teacher`s cello tape for this.
After having his eraser in my armpit for 24 hours, I placed it back in his Mickey Mouse like container. For days after that, Zafar went around telling people that his scented rubber didn`t smell of mint as it used to. I just smiled.
I took my second revenge when I was nine years old and in class four. Coincidentally, this story also revolves around the armpit.
It was the annual sports day in our school and Himanshu Mishra had just beaten me at the 100 meters dash. I had come in second.
“Why don`t you participate in long jump…those that fail in 100 meters attempt long jump,” he said. I swear I spotted him winking when the words escaped him.
Like most of you out there, I am also a very bad loser. I start whining, and crying and plotting. That very moment, I decided to take my revenge. How…was the question.
For weeks, I didn`t know what to do and then it stuck me. One of my earlier classmates had once said that if a human being slept the whole night with onions under their armpits, he/she would get high fever the next day.
So, I walked up to Himanshu Mishra and said: “Hey, do you have trouble getting up early in the morning and studying?”
“Ohh Yeah.” Himanshu was falling for it.
“I know a trick to wake up early. But I can`t tell you.” I acted as if I was moving away from him.
“Rajan, please tell me na. We are friends after all…right?” I had Himanshu by the hook.
This is what I was waiting for. “Here take these two onions and keep them under your armpits while sleeping,” I said.
“What will happen if I do that?” He asked.
“Well, you will get up early, and thus will be able to study more.” I said it so convincingly that Himanshu grabbed both the onions and kept them in his bag.
He didn`t come to school for the next four days. Since we stayed close by, his mother asked me to deliver his leave letter to our class teacher. I just smiled.
After 25 years, I had my third revenge today. Unfortunately, it is getting de-classified (and thus will be ready for public consumption) only after 25 years. 🙂
# My brother-in-law is a lawyer
# On why I liked to travel by second class
# Now Rekha and I fight for different reasons
# Wasn`t cricket supposed to be a man`s game?
# Much married, much harried
Even as IPL got to a rousing start at ChinnaSwamy stadium in Bangalore, an old friend of mine called me and asked what team I was supporting. Being a south Indian, I opted for Bangalore Royal Challengers.
After Brendon Barrie McCullum of Kolkata Knight Riders scored 158 off just 73 balls, and the team from Kolkata finished at 222 in their allotted 20 overs….I was upset.
As luck would have it, Bangalore Royal Challengers ended up being Royal losers. It was then that I sent my friend this SMS: “If I am feeling so upset, wonder what Vijay Mallya would be feeling.”
Prompt came his response: “He must be feeling the cheer leaders!!”
If you remember, sometime back I had said that I was aiming for a Shah Rukh Khan like six-pack. Well, the girl colleague for whom I was working out quit her job a month back and got married last week. I came to know of her marriage after a fortnight of working out…and ever since have lost all interest in a six-pack.
Last week, after being called ‘a portly bastard` by a software engineer in my office, I decided to join a gym. One day later, I took a Health Club subscription at PowerHouse, a gym in Sector 56 of Gurgaon (if you come there too, and if you aren`t well built…buzz me…would like to meet up).
Jane Fonda in Spandex
The first thing that stuck me is the fact that a gymnasium is very much like a bar. Till one is out of the bar, one doesn`t know how drunken one is…and when it comes to the gymnasium…till one doesn`t come out one doesn`t know how tired he/she is. Perhaps, that`s why on my first day at the gym, the bouncers had to carry me home because I couldn`t walk after two hours on the treadmill. Reminded me of the day I had my first beer – a bunch of friends had to carry me home.
Cross Trainer (The lady doesn’t come along)
If you have never been to a gym before, let me tell you that all those Bollywood / Tollywood songs choreographed inside gyms, where the heroine wears Jane Fonda-like spandex and works out on the cross trainer (see pic) isn`t true. For example, in my gym I have only seen four women train and I suspect their weights to be 78 kgs, 81 kgs, 73 kgs & 92 kgs respectively. I will tell you more about the only pretty girl (vital stats: 32-25-34) who visits the gym, in a separate post.
On my first day, I was embarrassed with my physique. A dark complexioned, 165 cms tall mass of body which was 34 cms wide in the middle…didn`t look good standing next to six feet tall, well built men wearing tight Reebok-sponsored uniforms. Thanks to my gym buddy (who, unfortunately happens to be a guy thus stealing the shine out of a sauna / steam bath) I came to know that these guys were the gym employees. With great difficulty (I always find it difficult to speak to people I am envious of) I tried to strike a conversation with a person who could have easily been a GladRags Mega Model: “Hi, I am Rajan. And I know nothing of gyming….can you help me get a six pack?”
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“Me…Santosh.” [Name changed because he is huge and can hurt me]
“Great Santosh! So what should I do first?”
“Treadmill. Cross Trainers. Weight Training. We get six pack.” Santosh seemed to be crisp in his replies.
Wow…so handsome people talk less. I made a mental note to talk less and in the process look like a model. Two days later when I walked up to him and asked: “So, which machine do I use if I have to burn the fat around my waist first?” he responded: “Difficult question. You know Hindi?”
Thinking ever since – would pretty girls prefer a tall, well built mannequin or go for dark, 165 cms tall, 34-inches around the waist type?
# Every photograph has a story to tell
# To be a father or not to be
# What if there were no women in the World
# How to get into a conversation with a girl
# Dangers of Short Messaging Service (SMS)
Shopping in the malls isn`t as easy as it used to be, say…five years back. And I say this after spending my weekend hours of the last six months, in shopping malls.
If like me you are also married and spend a lot of your free time in the malls, you would probably agree that shopping carts are a nuisance. So much so, I get dreams of people riding the roads (and highways) on shopping carts. And since I saw this dream in the early morning hours, I fear it could soon be a reality. After all, no license is required for handling a shopping cart.
If you don`t take me seriously and organize a candle light vigil outside Dr Manmohan Singh`s residence….YOU might soon be putting down your car window and shouting: “Mind your shopping cart, you bastard!” I prefer to use ‘a$$hole`.
Since there is no license even if you are mentally unstable, you can get behind a shopping cart and hurtle down the road. While on the subject, what if your poetry teacher asks you to write a poem describing a shopping cart in the hands of a lunatic?
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Simple. Here goes –
A dangerous tool,
In the hands of a fool.
I was in Reliance Super, recently and almost got run over by a seven year old pushing a shopping cart. It is another thing that sometimes shopping carts move by themselves (down the slopes) and injure you…but when a gum-chewing, 14-year-old with his red velvet underwear showing above his jeans pushes a shopping cart into you….it is time to do a reality check. Life inside a shopping mall is no easier than on the MG Road outside it (have you wondered why every city has a MG Road?).
But before I got run over by this 14-year-old, I had my bit of struggle getting the shopping cart from their line-up at the entrance. After a lot of pushing and shoving – in which I hurt my fingers twice and my leg once – I managed to get one shopping cart for myself. I made my daughter sit in the place provided for her. A tired husband, who just can`t hold on to the baby while the mother is trying on the different shades of L` Oreal lipsticks, must have invented the baby seat in the cart. Hats off, sir!
The shopping carts in India don`t come with safety belts and ABS (Anti-Braking System)…and thus I had to trust God Almighty and start pushing my shopping cart. The good thing about shopping in pairs is that one can hunt down the items, while the other can push the cart and keep the baby entertained.
By the time we had finished, I had opened up a Maggi Rice Noodles pack, used Teflon`s Microwave Friendly Bowl, started an on-display Samsung M183DN Microwave (the one with 20 Liters capacity and six power levels – the salesman said so), and cooked noodles….and then spread them on my head so my daughter could laugh.
To cut the long story short, shopping carts are dangerous. Besides, on not finding a Bar Code on my daughter, the boy at the billing counter gave her to another agent and asked him to fetch a similar piece BUT with the bar code!
# Buying a pram for my daughter
# Television – my new friend, philosopher & guide
# Accepting gifts from relatives
# Buying a Microwave oven
# Getting my hair cut under a tree