Author: Jamshed V Rajan

Ouchmytoe Recommends is a new category being started just because I have nothing much to do.

TWISTED DNA happens to be the first blog Ouchmytoe Recommends. If you love Ouchmytoe`s style of writing, you will definitely like Twisted DNA. Come on now…give him some page views…will you?

Some of his favorite posts: * My friend and his opinion of a wife | * 10 Kinds of Saree Wearers | * Those sexy, supple, white things | * Craptastic! | * I plead guilty of living in the US

I have always believed that every photograph has a story to tell – something so compelling that one doesn`t really want to share it. Perhaps that is why it took me 26 years to tell you this story.

The three children caught in this 26-year old photograph are Jamshed V Rajan (a self-proclaimed Internet guru), Sumathy (the most artistic person in the family, who has plans of leaving her teaching career behind and joining the ITES-BPO sector) and Deepa (a house wife and the most affectionate of us all).

Story of the Photograph

Those were the innocent days. Children didn`t demand play stations and parents didn`t buy costly toys because they were never guilty of not spending enough time with their kids.

I still remember when my father – the more playful of the two parents because he could afford the time and money – called us all and announced that we were going out to take a family photograph. We hadn`t taken one since the youngest member of the family (the one with chubby cheeks) had arrived.

“Pick out your best clothes and be ready. I will be home by 4.30 p.m. and we will leave in half an hour,” he said.

It wasn`t a difficult task for me. I had only two good shorts and the zipper in the second didn`t work. I decided to wear the red short and the only shirt (out of the four I had) that would go well with it. Being an Army man`s son I couldn`t afford to be photographed without a belt and a pair of shoes. Kendriya Vidhyala`s red belt and white shoes, which was reserved for Saturdays, completed my attire.

Back then, it wasn`t fashionable to wear one`s socks around one`s ankles. I had to borrow two pink colored rubber bands from my mother to hold my socks in the right position. I have a feeling, by using the rubber bands I had cut the blood supply to my feet by half …but I wasn`t complaining.

I don`t know if Deepa (the one in salwar) had trouble choosing her best – I wasn`t into girls` clothes then. Sumathy, being the second girl in the family had a host of clothes to choose from. Besides, being a small kid, she could afford to be seen wearing woolens in April.
There was immense camaraderie while we ironed the clothes. In fact there was so much camaraderie that Deepa offered to iron Sumathy`s best woolens and burnt them.

As promised, my father came home early and we left for the studio at 5 p.m..

I heard my father ask my mother, “Shall we go to the studio we went to two years back?”

Today, I shudder to think how much we have progressed in terms of photography. My daughter is all of 80-odd days old and I already have 100s of pictures.

My mother nodded in agreement.

Half way through our walk, my mother asked Deepa, “Where is your dupatta?”

Apparently, in all the excitement, my sister had left her dupatta at home.

Mother (turning towards daddy): “Is it ok to take a picture without a dupatta?
Father: “No way. What is the point in taking a picture if we can`t show it to others?”
Mother: “You are right. Let us buy one on the way.”

We entered a small shop and in ten minutes had with us a red dupatta – something that would go well with Deepa`s pink salwar.

Soon enough we were in the studio – a very small, smelly place. In one corner stood a wall-mounted mirror and on a stool nearby I could see a few dirty combs and a tin of Ponds talcum powder. My parents applied a dash of the talcum powder (remember, we had walked two kilometers and were now sweating). They then took turns combing our hair and powdering us.

Before we were to take our respective positions, my father spotted that my white canvas shoes were not actually white. The studio man suggested we try applying some talcum powder, which he assured had worked for the previous client.

After my shoes were white enough to be photographed, the studio man guided us to our respective positions. I remember him telling our parents, “After I arrange the kids, you both can occupy positions just behind them.”

After 10 minutes of struggle, the studio man managed to place us at the right spot. By then, my father had had different ideas. I didn`t hear what he told my mom, but I did see her nodding her approval.

My father turned towards the studio man and said: “Why don`t you take a photograph of these three first? We will join them later.”

It all happened in a flash. Pun intended.

The studio man looked towards my father and said, “Come on now…it is your turn.”

“How much will it be for this snap if I want three copies – one for each of them?” asked my father.

I didn`t get the exact amount, but I did see my father`s eyebrows knit. He looked at my mom and didn`t say a word…but I did see her nod in approval. My parents didn`t stand with us that day for the second photograph. And it was three years before we went out again for a family photograph.

Today…26 years hence…we three have a copy of this photograph. We miss our father, though.

Warning: This is a pretty long post. 😉

I have a very funny family. Read about them

# Accepting gifts from relatives
# Rekha is getting ready for my family
# My world is suddenly crowded
# Never be selfish, go and meet your in-laws
# My Grandma didn`t go to Jail

One of my friends who is very strong in History was heard saying: “Pearl Harbour? Who is she?”

Another friend, who is an expert in Playboy replied: “She was the centerfold for the December issue of 1941.”

Controversial British comedian Bernard Manning died today. Branded a racist through out his life, the star comedian was banned from many clubs in Britain. His death hasn`t settled matters…people are still arguing if racist comments can be funny.

The good thing about a comedian dying is that you get other comedians coming out of the closet and delivering eulogies.

Here is what fellow comedian Frank Carson had to say to BBC, “He was a wonderful man. If I had to write his gravestone I’d put: Here lies Bernard Manning, comedian, who died 76 years old.”

“Underneath that I’d put: What a pity, he had a booking next week.”

Some funnies from the suitcase

# Quotes on what is funny and what is not….
# Difference between a train & an aeroplane – a guide for the first time flyer
# When I was no longer ‘cute` for the women
# Do platonic relationships exist?
# Do all married men need mistresses?

This post has been updated after advice from my Brand Image Consultant, whose name will not be revealed even if I am forced to marry again!

Friday, the 15th was my last day with Yahoo India. The first three months of my time in Y! India were a breeze but after that I stopped having fun. I would have stayed on because of the flexibility it offered me and the brand that Yahoo is, but then some unmentionables happened and I was soon looking out I am not the kind to work in a place that doesn’t provide the freedom to think, innovate and build.

When I got in touch, www.Ibibo.com was happy to offer me the role of a Sr. Product Manager. After a few phone calls and a single interview, www.Ibibo.com was excited in offering me the right mix of risk & freedom (the hallmarks of a start-up) and I asked myself: “What the heck…why not Ibibo?” I think, it was my wife who said: “Because it means we have to shift to Gurgaon!”

Shifting to Gurgaon is the only issue – but then, Rekha and I are fine with it. After a Rs 17,999/- diamond and a few hours of begging Rekha is gung-ho about Gurgaon. From the gurgles that my 75-day-old daughter manages, I think she is also ready for the re-location.

Another thing my daughter is happy about is me being appointed ‘Director` of a web-enabled loan marketplace called HoneyBee India. It is a start-up (and the quality of their website shows) and needs all the support it can get. What would be my roles & responsibilities as the Non Executive Director of Honeybee India? Click on the link and find out. Sounds heavy, doesn`t it?

And hey, wish me luck.

Sharp at 8 p.m., last Wednesday, our house plunged into darkness. Since I was really tired I decided to make the legendary two-minute noodle meal and hit the sack at the earliest.

I looked around for my Emergency Light and switched in on…it was still dark because I had forgotten to charge it. I looked for a candle and found a single birthday candle hidden in a corner, which I couldn`t use because the wick had been pulled out.

Though ‘dark` had been a deterrent in the earlier days of my life now I had grown up and knew how to brave it. I no longer hid inside cupboards and no longer looked into the water inside the potty for crocodiles.

Groping in the dark, I got a hand on the kadai and a packet of noodles. With a bit of guesstimate, I managed to light the gas and start cooking. Without my knowledge, a lizard was taking swimming lessons in my kadai till the sport got too hot to handle.

I don`t know if you have ever tried cooking Maggi noodles …if you have…you probably know that the two minutes funda is all wrong. It takes well over ten minutes to cook Maggi noodles. Especially, if you are cooking in the dark.

It took me lesser time to eat. I ate it in the dark and thus didn`t see the lizard till I felt its tail on my lips. Being mustache-less helps to spot lizards in your food.

The house was still dark.

Oblivious of the house owner standing right in the middle of the kitchen, a bunch of cockroaches had started painting the town – which for them was my kitchen – red. Perhaps they thought it was 11 p.m. and the house owner was in bed.

I decided to follow an average cockroach`s night life and put on my night vision goggles, bought at the local fair. Believe me, it feels good to have technology by your side. Ask Anna Nicole Smith. Oops! My condolences. She is no more (and no less).

A mad cockroach chose the wrong time (and wrong person) for a bite – I felt a tinge on my ankle and even before I could shake it off, it had sent across a trickle of cockroach-poison into my blood stream. I turned and twisted in the darkness till I became a cockroach. Yes, I knew I had become a cockroach because my night vision goggles were suddenly too big for me. And I could see in the darkness without them.

Even as I was getting a grip on the situation (which was easy because I now had sticky hairs on my legs), a teenaged cockroach yelled: “Hey stranger, coming to Fatso`s party?”

I shook my head and saw my two long antennas bobble up and down. Now I know why none of the cockroaches nodded their head when I held a ‘Bagon Spray` in my hand and said: ‘Look here pal, I am going to blow you off Earth`s surface!”

I tried to turn my neck, but couldn`t. If I had to see behind my back…I had to move my whole body. Being a cockroach wasn`t easy.

I decided to go to the party….after all, what better place to get to know a few people …oops…cockroaches…than a party. I looked at myself – was I properly dressed? I was draped in a shiny brown skeleton. Instead of the regular two-piece suit humans wear, I was now wearing a three piece-suit…for my head, thorax and abdomen.

What would be my transport to the party? I couldn`t possibly walk to the party…or could I? “How about flying?” I kidded myself and looked around if I had wings. Thank God, I was a male…I had wings and I could fly to the party venue. I wondered how the female cockroaches visited the parties. I had read in my biology book that they had vestigial wings – underdeveloped and of no use.

Flying is fun, especially, when you fly low to the ground. I could see the landscape…the kitchen`s door mat looked like a couple of acres of ripe maize, the broom leaning in the kitchen corner looked like the Eiffel Tower, the water dripping from the sink`s tap looked like the Niagra Falls….the scenery was breathtaking. The flight was short and I found a good landing strip next to Fatso the cockroach`s house and slowly glided in.

The moment I landed I knew why Fatso the cockroach was the party organizer. He was definitely trying to show off his lake-side view house under the refrigerator. I say lake-side view because I was sure the cockroaches could see the wet wash area from where they stood. I joined the party animals (or should I call them party insects?) and had the time of my life. We had all the food we wanted in the refrigerator….all we had to do was brave the cold and make a dash for our lives as soon as we had something in our mouth. In case you didn`t know we cockroaches have mouths that open horizontally.

We had drinks as well – a grape which had fallen between the refrigerator door was serving as the rum drum. There was music and dance too – we were dancing to the beats of the seconds hand of the wall clock on the kitchen wall. We partied for long and I loved every bit of it. The only time I was sad was when the lady cockroach I was dancing with commented that I had six left feet (for those that don`t know…men who don`t know how to dance are said to have two left feet).

The party came to an abrupt end when the lights suddenly came on and we had to run helter-skelter. I warmed up my engines and flew away to safety.

I woke up on the kitchen floor in the morning. I was a human being again, and the lights were still on. “Must have been a dream”, I told myself before getting up. It was then that I noticed my night vision goggles and my clothes on the floor. Just to be sure, I looked underneath the refrigerator and there was a black grape – the one I had drank rum from the previous night.

Keep it to yourself, but I have a feeling…I am the cockroach man! I am thinking of designing a super suit with a big ‘C` on my chest!

What did you want? The funniest?

# Drinking with the wolves
# Mother in law vs daughter in law
# The art of swearing unnoticed
# Women – somebody TELL ME what they want
# What if we didn`t have ears?

During a recent conversation with a friend who works for a newspaper, I came to know a lot of unknowns about ‘Letters To The Editors.` For the average Joe (and that doesn`t mean the 165 cms tall Joe living in Texas, US) Letters to the Editors mean nothing, but if you are a journalist and are responsible for choosing the best among 100s of letters that are received, editing them and then publishing them…you are going to have a lot of laughter in your life.

I tried to get some Letters To The Editor samples so that I could share with you, but he refused. Said, the senders might not appreciate being published on an average-Joe website like Ouchmytoe.com. I didn`t argue.

As a consolation, I publish below three letters I sent to the editors of two different newspapers when I used to be journalistically-active.

August 20, 1997 (Submitted to: The Hindu)

Dear Editor,
Let me come straight to the point – we need to do something about the internet. Internet they call it, but I would say it is ‘dangernet`. All my friends steal a major portion of the money kept in the house for provisions and go to the browsing center. Now, if you are a regular internet user…you know why they sit in the browsing centers for hours on end. I don`t know if you are addicted to porn or chat with girls…but I am sure you understand my concern.

We need to stop this internet menace, so please publish this letter. I promise you, I won`t spend the honorarium of Rs 200 on internet.

Yours sincerely,
JV Rajan, Calcutta

The above letter to the editor never got published.

Jan 11, 2000 (Submitted to: The Hindu)

Dear Editor,
If you remember I had sent you a letter on 20th August 1997 and for some reason – and I am sure it was a good reason – you didn`t publish my letter. I hold no grudge against you. This letter comes to you because I want to bring to notice the plight of people using the road in front of our house. The 50 feet wide road was recently named by our residents association as Anna Kournikova Road after she reached the No 1 ranking for the first time on Nov 22 1999.

While I had suggested Steffi Graf, our association`s president – a retired Tam Bram friend of mine – overruled it. I am writing this letter to you because I want to bring to your notice the huge pot holes on the Anna Kournikova road. It has caused us deep anguish and hurt and we are looking at a quick solution. The men in the neighborhood find it difficult to go about their daily life with thoughts about the potholes at the back of their minds. Motorists are known to stop their bikes on the side and drop a tear or two. How could a road named after Anna Kournikova – the lady with such unblemished skin – have so many potholes? Please give it a thought.

Yours unblemished,
JV Rajan, Madurai

Wonder why, but this letter also didn`t get published.

Aug 18, 2003 (Submitted to: The New Indian Express)

Dear Editor,
If you have just quit your job at The Hindu and joined The New Indian Express, you probably remember my letters of August 20, 1997 & Jan 11, 2000. If you haven`t changed your job recently please ignore the earlier sentence.

This letter is to bring to your notice that the glamor quotient in your newspaper has been dipping. In the last six months you have carried only three photos with the navel showing (one of which was a man`s) and only five photos with the cleavage showing (two of which weren`t clear because the color had smudged). Please compare it with the statistics of your glamor quotient between Sept 2002 to Feb 2003 – 16 navel shows, 24 cleavages and 6 bikini shots. Don`t you think there has been a dip?

If you publish this letter and send me the honorarium (how much is it now-a-days?) I plan to buy a playboy.

Yours,
JV Rajan, Madurai

This letter also didn`t get published

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is funniest of them all?

# Toilets – how lucky we are to have them
# Andhra farmers get laptops to solve their farming problems
# My medical check-up
# How I averted a flood, an earthquake and a Hindu-Muslim riot
# What if there were no women in the World