Jammy, as Jamshed V Rajan is affectionately called, is a wannabe stand up comedian. He has a funny take on most things but documents only some of them. If you are interested in chatting up with him, do drop him an email at jv.rajan@gmail.com or message him at +919650080255.
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I realized just now that I have been blogging for the last five years. Damn! This itself deserves a blog post. Another humor blogging biggie Great Bong celebrated his fourth year in blogging recently.
Unfortunately, I am still suffering from the writer`s block that`s been plaguing me for the last one month. So here goes another feeble attempt.
This post is about the time when the Rajasthan government out of love & respect for me…gifted me a camel.
The story begins in 1990 when I first visited Jaipur as part of Tamil Nadu`s kabbadi team. I was studying 10th grade in Kendriya Vidhyalaya, Madurai. Being the youngest in the team I was automatically a substitute and thus didn`t have to play many (or should it be ‘any`?) of the matches. With a lot of free time on hand, I started roaming the streets of Jaipur.
Remember the year was 1990 – the year of Mandal Commission, where heavy reservations were being recommended for OBCs (today I know that it is Other Backward Castes & NOT Onions, Baigans & Cabbages as I had thought back then) by then Prime Minister VP Singh. Even as I roamed the streets, I witnessed riots all around me.
Generally, Hindus and Muslims chase and kill each other in riots… and one is used to it…but this was a different riot…both the prey and the predator were Hindus.
I was rioting on behalf of the OBCs. Remember, back then I thought it was Onions, Baigans & Cabbages? Then, I believed that vegetarianism was the way forward. My belief had only grown stronger after I noticed that non-vegetarians farted too much – proof that our digestive system was built for greens & not the heavy proteins one had to digest after eating meat.
Being a kabbadi player, I was the fastest of the rioters and when we were chased by a crowd of non-OBCs…I bolted (NOT Usain Bolt) towards Jantar Mantar. Jantar Mantar is a wrong place to hide from sword wielding men …..it is only getting out that`s difficult….getting in isn`t. The non-OBCs entered Jantar Mantar and caught me….while I was still struggling to find a way out and avoid capture.
Did I tell you, I was born with a mole on my back…which makes me lucky? At the time of my capture….Srimathi Vasundhara Raje, who is now the Chief Minister of Rajasthan, was present inside Jantar Mantar. Back then she was only 35+ and pretty…and more adventurous. She walked up to the leader of the non-OBCs gang and said that we were a couple. She said that we were Mr & Mrs Iyer. Now you know who inspired the movie Mr & Mrs Iyer.
Royalty won, and I was released. Vasundhara Raje then took me to her mother Rajmata Vijayaraje Scindia…and we discussed politics till late in the evening.
I convinced them that there should be reservations for the OBCs…because that`s what God wanted us to do. Vasundhara`s mother did raise an eye brow when I mentioned Onions, Baigans & Cabbages….my guess is she didn`t care much about the baigans. I didn`t pursue the matter much…because even reservation for OCs was fine with me. In the end, they seemed pretty convinced.
Later we discussed about Uniform Civil Code, where I argued that not all school students come from the same financial background and hence…uniforms for school students should remain and the debate on Uniform Civil Code should end. Here again, they seemed to be convinced.
I parted ways after being a State Guest for a few days. While leaving Jaipur I had no idea that Vasundhara`s mother was impressed with me. When she passed away in 2001, 11 years after we met, she willed that Rajasthan gift me the best Camel the World had.
In early 2006, Vasundhara Raje…who by then had become the Chief Minister of Rajasthan, decided to fulfill her mother`s wishes and decided to import a camel from Saudi Arabia.
By late 2006, the best of breed camel was identified and shipped to India. The Rajasthan Government spent the next two years asking me to come and pick up my gift. Not knowing that it was a camel….I went to Jaipur last week….we drove down….but had to come back on camel back.
Don`t believe me? Check out the fax sent by Indian Embassy in Riyadh…and also my photograph on the camel.
Note: If Jaipur isn`t a haven for gays, why is it named the Pink City?
What was Mandal Commission all about?
According to Mandal, 27 percent of all posts in the government must be reserved for members from the “Other Backward Classes” (OBCs), and that those OBC candidates recruited on the basis of merit should not be adjusted against the OBC quota of 27 percent, that they should not be adjusted against the 22.5 percent reserved for Scheduled Castes and Tribes, that the quota was to be applied not only at the time of recruitment but also “to promotion at all levels”, and that if a sufficient number of those sub-standard OBCs were not available to fill the posts during a particular year, the unfilled margin should be carried forward for three years. More Here
# When I became a cockroach
# Flashback: My days in London
# My wife`s oral contraceptive is “No sex today!”
# I despise the ladies…
– Henny Youngman (1906 – 1998)
I have been wearing glasses (not the whiskey ones) since I was in grade one. As proof I even have a mark on the bridge of my nose. Being a south Indian, I am proud to tell you that I share this so called ‘mark` with a Superstar called Rajinikanth!
Anyway, this post isn`t about me sharing a mark with the Superstar…but about this sudden urge in me to shift to contacts. If only I had contacts in high places, I would have got a well paying job and been able to afford contacts…which I would have then placed in high places – for example, my cupboard – for fear of my child.
* * * * * * * * *
I was in grade one, when my teacher asked me to get my parents to school. The obedient boy that I was, I called them.
“Please, get him glasses….I don`t think he can see what I write on the black board,” she told my mother. My mother was nodding her head vigorously. I was standing close by and overhearing.
How did the class teacher know? I was surprised and happy. In my excitement, I took a step closer and asked my teacher: “Madam, will I be able to read after I start wearing glasses?”
“Sure Rajan. Why not?” My class teacher was very encouraging.
“Because my mother thinks one needs to learn ABCD…. before one can start reading.”
Anyway, like I was saying…the first time I landed at an Optician for my pair of glasses, I didn`t even know what hit me. My father looked at a few spectacles, placed a fewer still on my nose and looked at me from far and near….and then handed me a pair that DIDN`T look like Harry Potter`s. I excused him because Harry Potter wasn`t even born then. But my father sure made a spectacle of me.
If you are somebody who has spent a good amount of time with bad eyes but no spectacles, you will agree that the World becomes a lot more colorful with glasses on the bridge of your nose.
My father decided to go back home by the public transport…to which I protested. I said: “Father, why don`t we take an auto?”
“No son…using public transport builds character.”
“No father it doesn`t!” I shouted over the noise created by the passing Diesel version of Ambassador.
“Yes son….it does.”
We argued for sometime…but then my father lost patience and threatened to give back my new spectacles if I refused to see his way with glasses he had paid for.
It has been least 25 years now (with a few years of Contact lenses in between)…and I have to tell you that I have had good and bad times.
The best was when yesterday when Rekha came closer, removed my glasses and said: “Rajan, without the glasses you look as young as you were at our marriage.”
Without battling an eyelid, I shot back: “I tend to agree ….without my glasses you look as young as you were at our marriage.”
*If you noticed this post was supposed to be about my contacts 😉
Train-ed Romance – Flirting with a Pretty girl in a Train
Rekha and I had a small fight today morning
Being a celebrity is tough
Our visit to the gynecologist….
My eyesight….my problems
I once wanted to become a suicide bomber. It was 1990 A.D. and I was in class eight….I think Ms Geeta Kumari was my class teacher.
Suicide bombing hadn`t yet become a career option – the middle classes still wanted their children to become an Engineer, a Doctor or a Collector. I decided to become a Collector, because I didn`t like what the only Engineer & Doctor I knew did for a living – the former was always flirting with the brick carrying lady while the latter preferred the nurse. I know, I was only 14 years old then…but you got to agree that we Rajans have that special something to spot a flirt.
In order to become a suicide bomber, I started practicing. By early February, 1990 I could hide under my shirt my school bag and my cricket bat. My guru in this exercise was Zafar Iqbal, a class 10 student who told me that he was a retired suicide bomber. I followed his advice, and spent at least 20 hours a day, trying to hide all kinds of things under my shirt.
Zafar said his family was full of suicide bombers. He even swore that his 80 year old grand pa was a suicide bomber – I know, it defies logic…but back then I didn`t have the courage to question him.
When I asked him why he had become a suicide bomber at such a young age, he narrated the story of his father`s bravery.
Like the rest of their family, his father Yakub Khan had also enrolled to be a suicide bomber when he was all of 24. After the training was over – in which Yakub couldn`t ask his suicide bombing teacher at Suicide Bombing Institute of India (SBII) for a second demonstration – he was sent to suicide attack an Indian Army camp in Dehradun.
I could see pride in Zafar Iqbal`s eyes as he was in a world of his own while narrating the story of his father`s bravado. He continued….
And then, my father strapped four kilograms of TNT around his stomach and put of a winter jacket over it. Since it was November…nobody suspected him. He walked right up to the middle of the cantonment and called up his bosses in SBII.. My father told his bosses that he was in the center of the cantonment, and wanted permission to commit suicide. Like true professionals, the bosses gave the green signal immediately….but as luck would have it…my father`s bomb refused to go off. He pressed the red button again….then again…then again…but the bomb just didn`t go off.
I looked in awe as I listened to Zafar`s passionate narration.
My father looked around him…there was nobody…..he could have given up and just walked out of the cantonment alive. But that wasn`t my father….he was a brave man. He pulled out his knife…and as promised to his bosses…slashed his wrists and committed suicide.
Zafar was my suicide bombing guru for a long time. And by the time I realized that suicide bombers didn`t retire, as Zafar had claimed, but died and spent time in heaven with 72 virgins, it was too late.
Around December, 1990, I decided to branch out on my own. I named my group Al Alphonsa Al Bimar Al Camchor and even made my own visiting cards.
With just a visiting card and burning ambition, I decided to tie up with other terrorist outfits. Zafar had told me that terrorists exchanged messages on porn sites….so I started visiting porn sites by the dozen.
You are probably thinking how a 14 year old, middle class boy, growing up in Kolkata (and that too in 1990 A.D.) will have internet access at home. Just to remind you…..you are reading my blog. So continue….
I started visiting porn sites. In the six months I spent searching for messages from terrorists hidden in porn sites…I came pretty close only once.
The message, which I saw just below a lady`s picture, said: “She packs solid ones under her jackets. She be mean, and can kill you with her looks.”
There were links next to this message called ‘View Her Images` ‘View Her Free Videos`…….I did view them but it turned out to be a dead end. There were no clues so I couldn`t proceed any further.
After wanting to become a suicide bomber for a little more than a year…I dropped my plan on 21 May, 1991 – the day Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated by a suicide bomber.
On Osama Bin Laden: Everybody`s Bin Looking!
How I averted a flood, an earthquake and a Hindu-Muslim riot
Now I have the license to kill, literally
I have never sat on an airplane
Conversation: Osama vs Batman
Delhi Blasts: When paranoia sets in…
It is always difficult to convey in 400 words what one has learnt in 15 years of drinking, but I am still going to try. This blog post is about how alcohol users can avoid hangovers or if they already own a hangover, how to get rid of it.
Please don`t laugh or make fun of my suggestions on how you can avoid hangovers, because besides working well for me….these rules are close to my heart.
When I started drinking in school, I was very irregular (my biology madam didn`t have frog dissection very often) because I wasn`t expected to bring a Old Monk rum bottle to school everyday. Just in case you didn`t know, I paid the price of being the son of a serving Army man – and was asked to bring in the antiseptic for the frogs, ie, half a bottle of Old Monk rum.
Every time my biology teacher announced a frog dissection class, she looked at me for that extra second and the message would be conveyed. If your mother hasn`t taught you yet…let me tell you that one should never look the Mafia in the eye….just look down…as I did.
Only 2-3 drops were required to anesthetize each frog….and I would be left with enough in the bottle to give a hangover to the whole school – minus, the teachers.
Anyway, here are Jammy`s recommendations to avoid hangovers
1) Avoid going to parties that serve liquor. If you don`t go to the party, you don`t drink liquor…and thus you don`t get a hangover.
2) If you have already gone to the party, avoid both the loud music and the dance floor – the more tired you are while hitting the bed, the higher your chances of a terrible hangover.
3) While drinking at the party, also drink a lot of water and piss regularly to dilute the extent of alcohol inside you.
4) Guys who rock the party more often than not tend to be heavy drinkers – stay away. You can form your own D-Company.
5) Spike the drink of somebody you hate. The guy / girl will get sloshed…and blabber so much that you would hurt your stomach laughing. And in the process forget drinking.
6) The best of all is to get married and lose all freedom to drink. But the question remains: What is better – hangover? Or wife?
If you already have a hangover…here are a few things you can do.
1) Around two in the night you will start getting hints about the hangover – they are a dry throat and de-hydrated body. So, get up and drink lots of water.
2) Around three in the night your right side (or ‘left` depending on your political affiliations) will start throbbing. See if you can visit the potty and puke – that`s the best option.
3) If you couldn`t puke at three, sleep tight for an hour and try and puke again.
4) While puking try not to wake up the whole neighbourhood – to fool them you can shout “ooooommmmmmm” a few times after the puking is over. They would think you were heavily into Yoga.
5) Surprisingly, when one has a hangover one tends to get up early. Perhaps, because sleeping becomes difficult….so take a quick dump, take bath and have tea with some biscuits.
6) If it helps, have some ‘Good Day` biscuits…your body somehow then feels obligated to ensure a ‘Good Day`.
7) After the puke and some biscuits….a good sleep till 9 a.m. really helps.
When you get up at 9 a.m. your hangover will be gone….but your wife will still be around.
Note: I am still suffering from Writer’s Block
I drink, therefore I am
Of cows, urinary bladders and the Vivekananda Rock
What if I was born in 2050 A.D.?
On why I hate this 12-month-old girl
– Some comedian for sure
As I had mentioned in my post two days back, I have been suffering from Writer`s Block. So much so, I sent my boss in office this mail.
Dear Sir,
As I am suffering from Writer`s Block, please grant me two days leave. As you can see, I am not able to write beyond this….
Thankfully yours,
Jamshed V Rajan
First things first, not necessarily in that order….I have been very busy lately. Ibibo has been keeping me busy. Real busy. I think it is a South African conspiracy to ensure India doesn`t sign the Nuclear Deal. Don`t ask me why South Africa doesn`t want India to sign the Nuclear Deal……for you never asked why Left doesn`t want it. Is it because they aren`t Right? (I hope you got the joke!)
While on the subject of politics, let me ask you a question: “How would a dyslexic person see the United Front?”
Answer: As Untied Front, of course.
If you have noticed, this blog post is about nothing in particular. Perhaps, I am a loser and that`s why am losing out to the Writer`s Block. I checked with my mother and she says it is in our blood…she said my grand pa once came third in a chess match.
As this blog post winds to a halt…I am getting a little scared. I don`t want my Writer`s Block to end because that would mean I have to write more blog posts.
To those of you who have mailed me that I take a long time between my articles, here is some bit of wisdom for you. How long is long? What is ‘long` depends on whether you are a blogger or a blog reader. Let me give you an example that you can relate to…have you ever sat on the potty and felt that you were long in the bathroom? I am sure your answer is a big “NO”! Now, stand outside, clutching your stomach and see how long it is before the door opens….
Dear bloggers, lock up your blog readers….Jammy boy has killed Writer`s Block and is lurking around town.
Today is my 33rd happy birthday
Father vs mother
Getting locked inside somebody`s washroom
Being a celebrity is difficult…
The art of swearing unnoticed
June 30 saw Delhi`s first Gay Parade. Some 100 policemen and 500 gay activists congregated at one place (and yes the Delhi policemen were there only for protection) to churn the system. This blog post is a tribute to the gay guts.
I also wanted to be there…but couldn`t find my mask. When I decided to go ahead without my mask the thought of my Shiv Sena supporting neighbour stopped me. If I had worn the pink colored shirt that day (which I would have, if I were going to the Gay Parade) this neighbour of mine would have caught me and scolded me.
The last time he caught me watching the 20Twenty cricket, he had warned me of dire consequences if I didn`t switch off the TV when the cheerleaders came on screen.
“What? How can you NOT be up against the cheerleaders, when our country`s values are being flaunted like this?” He had asked.
“Siva, I am not up against the cheerleaders…at least not as often as I would like to.” I remember saying.
The poor guy didn`t get the joke.
I wanted to be at the Gay parade, because I believe that every individual should be allowed to be himself/herself. Perhaps that`s why when my bachelor friend Rohit Khanna said he had bought a sex toy I got excited.
He whispered into my ears: “I bought a sex toy!”
“Wow…I have never seen one!” It was a lie…because I once saw a dildo on the X-ray machine at the security check counter of Bangalore airport. Wonder why it was kept in a laptop bag.
My friend replied: “You can come home if you like. It is black, and sleek.”
I said sure and forgot. When I took time out the next weekend to visit his place….I saw the HCL Busy Bee Desktop which he was referring to as a sex toy. I didn`t argue with him. After all, desktops have become the biggest sex toys in the last ten years of so.
If you think only unmarried men do as they wish, you are wrong. The other day, my colleague and I were having tea in the office cafeteria at 6 p.m., when my colleague blurted out: “As soon as I reach home, I am going to rip open my wife`s bra!”
“Be a dude and hold your tongue. You don`t need to be so graphic.” I had already started imagining – within seconds they had hit the bed.
“Right there! Stop your imagination! I am the one wearing my wife`s bra.”
I have had a good amount of respect for him since the incident. In fact, the other day I even did the good old girl trick on him: “Hey, Monday comes before Sunday!” (Are you a guy and didn`t get the joke? Check with a girl)
It is not just the guys who live life on their own terms. Some of the women too (and if you are one, call me!). The other day, I was in a church and when one of my girl friends walked in. I wanted to avoid her because only the previous night we had had an embarrassing situation….so, I ran to the confessional box and hid myself.
To my dismay, she walked right up to the confessional box…looked here and there….and started confessing.
“Father, I have sinned,” she said.
“Why? What happened my child?” At that moment I felt like Michael Jackson – just that unlike me he first calls them his children and then has sex with them.
“Father, you remember this guy called Jamshed, who comes to our church sometimes?”
“Yes dear. What about him? Did YOU also sleep with her?”
“No father….we didn`t sleep the whole night….”
At this point, I couldn`t take her lies. I pulled away the curtains and shouted back: “Liar! We slept off by 3.30 a.m…..remember?”
Like a girl who lived on her own terms, she decided to dump me.
Other Funny Reads
Am I turning into a woman?
Male sex organs (U Certificate)
What if there were no women in the World
Kissing – how it all began
Jammy`s sex life exposed!
Am I a lesbian?