Author: Jamshed V Rajan

The Indian Blogosphere has voted Ouchmytoe.com the second most humorous blog in India. I am happy. Would have loved to be the first but then I am not complaining. After all. didn’t somebody once say, “Seconds count!”

For those interested in numbers, Ouchmytoe came in second with 176 votes. The winner had a lot many. Details given below –

Thanks Indibloggies!

I think I would be perfect.

Post Indibloggies nomination, the writer of this blog has changed. To know how, read on.

Regular readers have always known that I was a good looker (courtesy the pic on top right corner). Now, the Indibloggies nomination in the Humor category has proved that I have brains too. Doubt that I am a good looker? Beat this – I got slapped by a lady colleague for looking real good. However, she used the synonym “stare” while talking about the incident to the other colleagues.

I agree that ever since getting nominated for the Indibloggies award, I have only been talking about myself. Let us now talk about you. Are YOU reading my Blog for the first time?

I would be surprised if you were as self obsessive but in my case it is justified. I mean…just look at me (remember…the top right corner of this website). Sometimes, I stare at that photograph of mine and get lost in my own thoughts. Today, while I was at it, I heard a colleague shout at the top of her voice even as she walked past me – “According to BBC`s today morning`s news, Copernicus has proved that the world revolves around the sun.” I didn`t bother to check if she was talking to me.

This is perhaps the right platform to also tell you that every morning I see love bites on my mirror…the intensity has increased after I got nominated for Indibloggies award. If I were you, I would really be alarmed…but since I am not you…no issues. The love bites just mean that I am in love with myself.

I have also become highly opinionated about all those who didn`t get nominated for the Indibloggies award. If you don`t like my opinion of you…you can always work on yourself (and your blog) and improve. Who is stopping you?

In order to maximize my votes and win the coveted title of ‘India`s most popular humor blogger,` I called up my friends to ask them to vote. Some didn`t pick up the phone. Some cut my call. One of them even pretended as if he was a computer and said: “Sorry, all lines in this route are busy. Please try again later.”

As if that was not insulting, a research fellow at IIT (whom I had last called three years back when I hit a deer inside the IIT campus) picked up the call and said: “Hi there! You have reached the NASA control room. To leave a message for Sunita Williams, press 1, to leave a message for the NASA Chief press 2, and for information on the 10th planet spotted recently …press 10.” If I hadn`t spent six minutes looking for number 10 on my mobile, I would have fallen for the trick.

After two hours of trying all my numbers, a good friend picked up the call.

“Hey, I have been nominated for Indibloggies award. Can you please vote for me?”

“Who is this?” This was very uncharacteristic of him. He could recognize my voice even when running 200 meters ahead of me.

“Man…this is Jammy,” I replied in a friendly tone.

“Ohh….Jammmmmmy….you know…the phone number display isn`t working on my mobile.”

“I am glad you picked up my call. None of the other guys picked it up.” When it comes to winning, I think there is nothing better than a sympathy vote.

He didn`t speak for a while. I continued the conversation: “Do you think everybody hates me?”

“Not all…only those who have met you.”

After that I heard a few hellos from the other end and the phone went silent.

Wonder why everybody has been distancing themselves from me after I was nominated for the Indibloggies award. Maybe, I have become an egotist. The silver lining is….I don`t talk of other people. Not even about the other humor bloggers nominated for the Indibloggies award.

Few Hand-Picked Posts
# First time I travelled by Kingfisher Airlines
# Inviting friends over
# Do all married men need mistresses?
# Valentine`s Day is over. Phew!

Those who thought garbage recycling was never going to be recognized have been silenced. Ouchmytoe has been nominated for India`s top Blog awards – Indibloggies!

Ouchmytoe has been nominated in the Humor blog category – quite an achievement considering humor is exactly what Ouchmytoe is aimed at. For the doubting Thomases, here is the page with all nominees listed.

Some other important links from this Blog Awards are: Categories | Jury | Sponsors

To vote for Ouchmytoe, you need to click here – and give your Name, e-mail ID & Blog if any. Once you submit, your inbox will have a link to cast your vote.

Your votes could make all the difference between Ouchmytoe being a blog forever…or it turning into a fully illustrated, excellently written, hard-bound best seller. What are you waiting for?

Central Station, Chennai
Train Number: 2601
Train Name: Mangalore Mail
Date & Time: 9 Feb, 8:15 p.m.
Destination: Kannur, Kerala

8.30 p.m.
I have just installed my Reliance data card, and believe me…it lives up to its Kar Lo Duniya Muthi Main line. I am traveling in the train from Chennai to Kannur and on the way responding to Ouchmytoe readers who have left their comments. If this isn`t awesome, what else could be?

8.31 p.m.
Ohhh…wait! There is a there is a pretty lady in seat number 13. I am in seat number 16 – the side upper berth and have a good view of her.

8.40 p.m.
Unfortunately, Rekha keeps calling me and asking questions like: ‘Do you miss me?” for which my replies have to be really measured. I don`t want the pretty lady to know that I am already married. Why should she be deprived of happiness just because Rekha got to me first? Why do men have to marry only once? Women…I can understand. But why men? Which brings us to the question of – what if men married many times and expected women to marry only once…we would need at least 2-3 times more women in this world than there are now. Perhaps, that`s why we are going by the 1:1 ratio.

8.50 p.m.
I notice the pretty lady is a Keralaite. She is talking in Malayalam. The language has never sounded sweeter. What is it with Tamilians and Malayalis? Why do they always fall in love?

9.00 p.m.
Oops! Who is that two-year-old kid sitting next to the pretty lady? Definitely not her son…..because I can see that the kid is wearing a frock, earrings and a bindi. Could she be her daughter? Perhaps. Let me wait till the kid opens her mouth – how will she address the pretty lady? Amma? Mummy? Amme? How long do I have to wait till the kid opens its mouth? Hope I don`t have to wait for five years. I did take that long to speak out for the first time. Some in my family thought I had Down`s syndrome while a few others put warm goat blood on my tongue so that I could talk sooner. I didn`t talk…but shouted because my uncle was standing on my toes. “Ouch my toe,” I remember saying.

9.20 p.m.
The pretty lady picks up water to drink. Hope that`s clean. One can never trust the Railway guys….they can be quite adulterous. I remember this married-with-two-kids station master neighbor of mine who had an affair going on with his colleague. He was quite adulterous.

9.21 p.m.
While tilting her head back to pour water into her gentle throat, she steals a glance at me. Our eyes meet, but I act out a there-is-a-speck-of-dust-in-my-eye thing and start banging on my keyboard. She perhaps thinks I am master software professional. She doesn`t know that I am using MS Word – the most basic of all softwares. While typing, I sometimes pause and look at the dirty fan…sometimes at the chain (the one used to stop the train)…sometimes at the windows…all this to make her feel that I am a great software professional who is coming up with something which would make Yahoo & Google look like also-rans.

9.30 p.m.
I see that she has got up and is correcting her clothes. Wonder why. Hope she isn`t eyeing the TTE. I can see the TTE checking our co-passenger`s tickets.

9.34 p.m.
The TTE leaves. The pretty lady walks towards the washbasin. We are sitting in 3rd AC…and the washrooms are only slightly better than what one would find in 2nd class compartments. But can I warn her? Would I be well within my rights? I hope she doesn`t go into the washrooms. She walks back and is looking at me this very moment. I smile. I can see that she doubts her ability to control herself in front of a handsome man. She just looks down and keeps walking.

9.37 p.m.
I have decided…once her parents sleep, I will get her phone number. Better still Yahoo ID.

9.40 p.m.
Found out that she is also going to Kannur….I had to get down and look at the reservation chart.

9.45 p.m.
They are switching off the lights. Why can`t people sleep with the lights on? I am staring into the dark. Can`t see anything. Wonder if she is also staring into the dark? Something that`s going against me is the fact that I remove my glasses while sleeping.

10 Feb, 10.24 a.m.
Couldn`t her phone number or Yahoo ID. In love with her though. We are reaching Kannur in five minutes.

10 Feb, 10.32 a.m.
We have reached Kannur. Her husband has come to pick her up. Glad I held myself last night – he is huge. Must be 6 feet 4 inches. At least a foot taller than I am.

10 Feb, 10.34 a.m.
Spotted Mr Chandrashekaran Nair – my father in law. He reminds me of my pregnant wife. Will be meeting Rekha in half an hour. Thinking of romantic sentences to say…lies don`t come that easily anymore.

Other Equally Good Reads

# Buffet dinner with ex-colleagues…
# Mirror, mirror on the wall
# Women – somebody TELL ME what they want
# Accepting gifts from relatives
# Inviting friends over

Thanks to Flash’s comment left here, I have realized that for the last 30 years of my life I have been referring to Storks as Strokes! What shame…on my teachers. Needless to say, you will have to keep this spelling mistake in mind while reading the post below.

I have always believed that God is losing his charm. No, I am not Satan but I definitely feel that God is losing his hold over today`s people. I stopped believing in him a few days after I got married to Rekha. It was shocking to know that God didn`t send the kids.

I am lucky, I came to know about God not supplying the kids in 2004 itself but I have a few nephews and nieces who don`t know that God is not the supplier of kids…and it is already 2007.

The other day one of my nieces asked (unfortunately, I can`t reproduce the six year old girl`s tone here): “Rajan, how did Shanti aunty get a baby boy?”

I stared at the girl. Sometimes staring helps. Most of the times, it doesn`t. I had to say something to stop her from staring back at me.

“Strokes visited Shanti auntie`s house last month and dropped a baby boy.” I was sure she would buy into the story.

“Strokes?”

“Yes, strokes. Strokes.” I repeated for emphasis.

“You mean the bird stroke?”

“Yes.”

“Surprising. Because only last week I saw a Discovery channel documentary on Strokes, and they didn`t mention a thing.”

“The US Government as part of its war against terrorism has asked Discovery Channel to keep it under wraps.” I tried to talk like Condellaza Rice, but it didn`t help.

“But, I thought one had to be married to have a baby. How do the strokes know that a lady is married or not?”

“Before dropping the baby, the strokes look around for a man-woman pair shopping.” I wanted to end this at the earliest.

“A boy and girl who are just lovers could also be shopping together. How come the strokes don`t mistake them to be married and drop babies. Wouldn`t it be embarrassing if Santosh uncle and the lady he meets in the temple come home with a baby one day?”

“Strokes don`t make such mistakes. They are intelligent.” This had become like the chess game where both players have only their King and Queen and thus can`t win, but want to continue playing.

“How?” The kid asked me.

If kids that ask questions grow up to be intelligent, I am sure our President Dr Abdul Kalam would have asked many questions when young. But then, I am also sure that he wouldn`t have been a popular kid among his relatives.

“Strokes hover above the shop for a while, and if the man drops out of the shot for a smoke or a tea or a 2-ruppee packet of groundnuts…it is a sure sign that the couple is married. If the man and the woman come out laughing from the shop, the strokes don`t drop the baby.”

I thought I had ended the conversation but apparently I hadn`t…for my niece immediately asked: “I always thought God existed.”

I didn`t want to start another war…so just muttered “Jesus” and moved on.

Other Must Reads

# When the stomach is full
# On why I am against helmets
# My wife is a murderer
# A visit to Fab India, Chennai
# Oxymoronic life that we live in…

This post is dedicated to an ardent reader Himani Sahni of Gurgaon who will be celebrating her birthday on January 31.

Last year, she had mailed me requesting a funny post as a birthday gift. I obliged. Today – one year later – she proved history and women to be similar by repeating her request. I have not added or subtracted anything from her mail, primarily because my math is bad. I haven`t even changed the spelling mistakes and wrong grammar.

– – – – X – – – –

Hi Jammy,

Hope you are doin gud…..

Its my Birthday tomorrow and I would again like to request you to write something really hilarous and interesting just for ME:-)…..I know I am being over demanding but wanna open my eyes with a big smile!!!!

What has a big smile got to do with the eyes? One can have a big smile and not open the eyes at all!

Not too sure about your work schedule…so if things are tough at your end and you are time stressed then pls feel free to reject the request
I would not mind:-)

I am really held up at work, but am writing this post because of the Rs 20/- you had attached to your mail

You really made my day last year, cant thank u enough for the same.

Is that why you left 45,982 comments in my blog the whole of last year?

God Bless u always!!

Thanks & Regards
Himani

– – – – X – – – –

On seeing the mail, I felt really good. How often do bloggers get mails from five years olds wanting to celebrate their birthday with a funny post? Not often.

Blame it on Rekha`s absence or plain excitement, I picked up my landline and dialed Himani`s number.

The caller tune was “Humpty, Dumpty sat on the cake, Humpty Dumpty didn`t get any to take” – a popular nursery rhyme they taught in DAV & Doon schools before Shiv Sena protested saying Hump and Dump were against our culture and needed to be banned.

Anyway, Himani picked up the phone. I was surprised, she didn`t sound like a five year old. I began to sweat profusely. I am not much of a lady`s man…and to top that I knew the tortoise and the butterfly joke I had practiced so well would fall flat. It worked well only for six years and below.

“Hi, this is Jammy here. You had mailed me.”

“Yeah, I had. So, when is the furniture coming?”

“Furniture?” I inquired. What was she talking about, I wondered.

“Aren`t you Tammy from Tammy & Tummy Furnitures?” She sounded concerned now.

“No. I am Jammy, your favorite blogger.”

“I am sorry, I go by urls. What`s yours?” She was demanding.

I couldn`t control my tears and lest she heard me choking over the phone, I cut the line.

– – – – –

Dear Himani,

My best wishes on your birthday. Even if this post ends up being your best birthday gift don`t worry. Even if the only thing you have gained this birthday is another year, don`t worry. For there was a birthday in my life when my father gifted me a BSA SLR, my mother gifted me an air pistol, my two sisters gave me two big Perk chocolates and I was looking forward to a evening birthday party at the house…but lost my way from school and couldn`t be found till the next day afternoon. I spent the night with two beggers.

On a serious note…research has shown that some people develop heartburn on their birthdays, primarily because of eating the birthday cake. If you really want to avoid the heartburn, I would suggest you remove the candles first.

I know this post is not as good as last year`s but neither are you growing any younger!

To read what I wrote on Himani’s 53rd birthday (which was last year), Click Here

I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting.
– Mark Twain (1835 – 1910)

Having been a fan of Mark Twain – who isn`t? – I agree to what he says. In fact, this is exactly what I was doing in the 28 months of my marriage with Rekha.

Now that she has left me (alas! for only six months) and the mirror in our house is free, I am shocked and appalled at myself. I have put on so much weight that I look like a US citizen with a Michelin & a Bridgestone tyre around my waist. Yes, this is the same Jammy who while participating in an “Improve the Society” Rally, held the placard: “Shoot all fat people”. Thinking back, I am glad that the police arrived at the last minute, killed a few protesters and dispelled the crowd. Else, my placard would have caught a Parliamentarian`s eye and would have been made a law….which means, I would have been shot by now.

Two days back I took my first step towards getting back to active physical life. I bought a pair of sneakers. The one I have now can`t be used coz it has not been used in the last year and half. I had bought it wanting to start jogging. I remember, the very next day the battery in our alarm clock had drained and before I could get a new battery, all interest in jogging had vanished.

If you are wondering if I will let this pair of sneakers face the same fate…you are wrong. I bought blue ones this time; they would go with my jeans too. I had never worn the white ones because it felt like wearing tube-lights on my feet.

As a precursor to starting jogging, I took a walk in the Jogger`s park yesterday morning. Nobody seemed happy while jogging. Not a single jogger was smiling. Some were panting, some were straining, a few were acting as if they didn`t really like jogging. Even when I tried smiling at them, they didn`t reciprocate.

I was about to give up when from afar I saw a jogger smiling at me. As he neared, I realized he was still smiling. “Good soul”, I told myself before smiling back….but he wasn`t looking at me. Next minute he was smiling at the flowers, then at the donkey which was tied to the tree, then at the single sneaker lying by the road side, then at the small boy from the slums who was reliving himself…the jogger smiled at everything.

I was impressed with his attitude towards life. I so much wanted to talk to him. I called out: “Sir, I just have a quick question.”

He stopped jogging, but kept moving to his sides and up and down.

“Sorry to have stopped you. Looks like you have to visit the loo…please go ahead. I can always meet you here tomorrow.” I said with due respect.

“That`s fine. I am just warming down. Why did you stop me?” He was a tall, staggering man. He sounded as if he wanted me to have a very strong reason to stop him.

“Sir, you keep smiling while jogging. I suppose jogging gives you immense pleasure.”

“Why do you ask?” The man seemed to be stiff, in spite of all his exercises. Arthritis, perhaps.

For a while I wondered if I should explain the whole situation – from Rekha leaving the house, me seeing the mirror, finding out that I was fat, deciding to jog, buying sneakers, to searching for a smile on a jogger`s face – but really doubted his warm-down theory. Since, I didn`t want to be the reason behind an adult wetting his shorts….I came up with a short explanation: “Sir, before I met you, all the joggers I had seen were grimacing in pain. You are the only one smiling.”

“Ohh…that! That`s coz when I was a 19-year-old I had a bike accident and lost all my teeth. After an orthodontist and a plastic surgeon fixed my jaw, besides the bill, they also left this smile.”

I was stumped. Before I could gather my wits, the man continued: “This is not the first time I have run into trouble because of this smile. Last week my wife left for her maike and I couldn`t show her that I was upset. I kept smiling, throughout.”

P.S. I am yet to start jogging.

Other Must Reads

#Treadmill and its implications
#Getting a treadmill for the house…
#Women – somebody tell me what they want
#Buffet dinner with ex-colleagues…
#God exists…

Two and a half years back I had announced my marriage with Rekha on this blog. Today, I would like to announce that I am a bachelor again. No! Girls, wait! Not yet. Rekha is gone only for six months and when she is back I will have one more reason not to dump her – the Kerala chips she will bring for me. Just kidding.

Last Friday, Rekha renounced her kingdom and made me the king again. She will be in Kerala for six months and in her absence I will be ruling our house. Have already taken her sandals which I can keep on the TV and seek guidance. My only grudge is…I had to soak the sandal in surf water before keeping it on the TV.

She has come up with five pages of instructions on what needs to be done to maintain the house the way it is now. They have been labeled Daily, Weekly and Monthly. A surprise inclusion in the Daily column is me taking bath.

Of the tasks labeled weekly the one that made me sigh in relief was: Give fruits to the maid servant once in a while. Apparently, she is pregnant. I am so glad our maid servant is already pregnant….I can`t visualize Rekha`s reaction if I had to tell her after a few months that our maid was pregnant. It would have been too much of a coincidence.

Of the tasks labeled Monthly, nothing interests me. All of them are about paying back to banks, institutions etc. Didn`t somebody once say, “Life is all about giving.” How true.

We landed in Kerala on Saturday afternoon. Like Keralites, even their trains are laid back. Don`t ask me how I know…for on our way I saw 14 compartments of one of their trains lying on their backs in a paddy field. Not something one would appreciate. Especially, during the weekend when there is so much rush.

As usual Rekha`s father was at the station. Apparently, he had come to the railway station two days in advance….so that he didn`t get late for receiving us. I said: ‘Accha, you could have come in today afternoon…why come two days ago?”

“That`s fine Rajan….I didn`t buy any platform tickets. Whenever the railway police came, I hid under a gunny bag from which I had evicted a homeless child.”

One can`t really argue with a person like him so I opted for the lesser of the two devils. I started talking to Rekha again.

While leaving for Chennai again, I held back tears and told her as only a man can pretend: “So, you are on your home soil. Six month here and you will turn into the daughter of the soil again with a hibiscus flower in your wet, greasy hair topped by a pearl-colored saree.”

She didn`t reply…too choked perhaps. Sometimes love can hurt.

Why is Rekha going to Kerala? Read all about it here!
# Announcing – Pregnancy Diary
# The initial months of pregnancy
# Some of the anniversaries I have to remember
# The baby-mother bonding