Men and Women

Difference between a man and a woman when they pee

Men and women are different in many ways. Maybe that’s what attracted them to each other in the first place, and keeps the world going.

Fortunately or unfortunately when it comes to peeing, men and women are like chalk and cheese. Chalk for instance will absorb the pee, and cheese won’t. No, that’s not the point of this article.

When a man goes for peeing, he gets up from where he is sitting, walks straight to the washroom, stands at the urinal (standing at the urinal is an art-form and we will go deeper into that later), pees his heart out and comes back. Most men don’t even waste time washing their hands. However if the man in question follows Islam, he won’t just wash his hands but he would also wash the tool he peed from. But this article isn’t about the men, so we won’t get into more details.

For a woman on the other hand, it is a complex exercise. Mind you, we are still talking of peeing.

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Step 1: Organizing the event

First of all, the girl or woman (age doesn’t change the way they pee!) has to organize the event called peeing. For this she needs to first find another girl who will accompany her to the washroom. Mind you, this isn’t an easy task for the girl needs to be a friend, somebody she can trust, somebody who is not as pretty as her. After all these conditions are met, the final criterion of a matching biological clock also needs to be confirmed.

Once the accompanying partner has been identified, the right washroom needs to be spotted –  a clean, well-maintained washroom where one doesn’t have to bring down the potty seat (which in-turn isn’t soiled) and there is enough supply of toilet paper.

After it is mutually agreed between the two women that the said washroom qualifies, decision has to be taken on who goes in first. This usually ends up being the person who initiated the whole exercise, since she has the upper hand in decision making. While the first woman goes in, the accompanying woman stands outside with her purse, handbag etc.

Dear men, please note that women are also known as anti-camels among biological scientists because if camels can go for days without drinking water, women can go on for days without peeing if they don’t get a clean washroom.

Once the decision on who is going to use the washroom is taken, the next stage of peeing is initiated.

Step 2: The actual act of peeing

The girl or woman selected to go in first upon entering the washroom, surveys it in all directions. You might wonder what’s the need to survey. She is actually looking for hidden cameras, and two-way mirrors (which our Facebook and Whatsapp friends warned us about with their mindless forwards) etc before proceeding.

Once she is sure the coast is clear, she takes a good look at the toilet seat for any signs of it being soiled or stained. Even a single speck is cleaned with toilet paper enough to kill a small tree. After this cleaning process, she takes out her phone and switches on the flashlight to shine some light on the toilet seat. Objective of the woman is to try and identify any speck of dirt which may have escaped the naked eye during the first inspection.

Once it is confirmed that everything is fine, the girl or woman will sit down and stop breathing for a while. This is to see if there is anybody else in the washroom. If there is nobody she will go ahead and pee. But if there is somebody still in the washroom, she won’t pee till they leave. This is to avoid the accidental fart being associated with her face by the person who saw her getting into the washroom.

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Step 3: Post peeing formalities

Post peeing, the woman will take some toilet paper and wipe the potty seat. Flush twice. She will then switch on the flashlight on her mobile and shine it on the potty seat to be sure she isn’t leaving anything behind. After she is sure, she will get out of the washroom.

Once she is out, she will take back her handbag from her girl friend and as a favour hold her accomplice’s handbag while the other woman takes her turn at the washroom. After the whole three stage process is completed by the accomplice, they both will come back to their desks.

Did I forget to mention the meticulous washing of hands? Well, they finish that as well.

Now, you know – when it comes to peeing, men and women are like chalk and cheese.

Men and Women

Visit to singles bar doesn’t go well, but you will laugh for sure

I haven’t really been a single guy. Way back in class nine, a classmate of mine proposed to me with a single sentence written in a double-ruled piece of paper torn from her notebook and changed my destiny forever. The girl had written: ‘I Love you!’

Having tasted blood so young, it was difficult to live without a girl friend after that – the result, I always had a girl with me. Pretty or ugly, intelligent or stupid….doesn’t matter after so many years. Naturally, there was no need for me to visit schools, colleges, parks, or nightclubs to pick up girls. In fact, I had never really visited any singles bars till I was 35 years old.

You probably don’t know but by mid-thirties a married man is only seen as a money making machine. You think ATM means ‘All Time Money’ or ‘Automatic Teller Machine’? To be honest, ATM means “A Thirty’s Man”.

By mid-thirties the parents have given up on you, wife has started ignoring you, and your kid starts believing that you are the designated driver of the household. Ask any mid-thirties man and he would agree. If he refuses, ask him again and watch him breakdown into tears. If after the second attempt the man still doesn’t breakdown, inform the police immediately. Chances are he has killed his whole family and buried them in the backyard of the house.

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Anyway, coming back to when I was 35 years old, I was getting lonely. Work in office was exciting….but that didn’t mean that my colleagues were coming back home with me. This results in a real low for active men like me. Want to know the symptoms of a man going thro’ a low – look out for a man in front of television watching sport. I know every man watches sport (some with beer) almost every day – yes, so we go through lows every day. The higher your age, the lower you go.

During one such lows, I heard an angel speaking. The angel was none other than my wife:
“Rajan, I am thinking of taking the kids and spending 15 days each with your mom and my mother.”

“Yes? When?”

“Does tomorrow sound too soon?” She enquired, as if waiting for my approval.

“Sure why not.” I was trying to hide my smile. And suppress my urge to jump out of the sofa and shout out my excitement.

“Good to know that you agree. I have already booked my tickets – so will be away for almost a month days.” Rekha replied.

I was happy. But I also saw an opportunity to extend this happiness for beyond 30 days. I immediately shot back: “Only 30 days? Isn’t our daughter celebrating a 45-day-vacation?”

“Yes.” Rekha seemed confused.

“Stay 10 more days with your mother and add five days to your stay with my mother – and you have a 45 day vacation.”

Rekha readily agreed. And I had won myself 45 days of freedom. At the speed at which today’s kids operate in these 45 days I could fall in love with somebody, have a kid and separate as well.

In a jiffy Rekha and Rhea were gone from my life. On day 1, I was ecstatic….I filled up my fridge with beer, stocked my Whiskeys and Vodkas, bought all kinds of potato chips that Rekha didn’t allow in the house house, stocked up on KFC Chicken on which we had an embargo under Rekha’s rule and what not. Every rule designed and implemented in my house to ensure I didn’t derive any pleasure in my life was broken. I was no longer under the rule of Idi Amin.

On Day 2, I called my friends for a party and they promptly landed.

On Day 3, I called my friends again and they promptly refused. Apparently, it gets boring to party in the same place every day. I just reminded them that they were getting up beside the same woman for the last decade or so, smirked and kept the phone down.

On Day 4, I decided to go to a singles bar. My first stop was a singles bar in Sector 29 in Gurgaon (wouldn’t want to name it for fear of a defamation case).

Call it inexperience but I landed at this Singles Bar as early as 7 pm. I hadn’t realized that in the last 15 years pubbing had changed – people now didn’t have to get back home before 9 pm.

Having already made the trip, I decided to have a few beers and hang around. At around 11 pm, the place started to fill up. At first it was only men who entered and loitered about. Many like me were concerned that there weren’t enough women in the place.

Around 11.30 women started coming in. They were delayed perhaps because they had to ensure that their kids, parents…and husbands had gone to bed.

There is a good reason why these singles bars are dark. It was plain difficult to see the women who had entered. It was almost as if I were a Batman, who in spite of being a super hero has only had to deal with silhouettes in his life.

I tried to strike a conversation with a woman who was sitting next to me and drinking like the World was about to end, and as if she had promised Gabriel that when she next met him at the heaven’s gates she would be sloshed.

“Hi, what are you thinking?” I asked.


“No…no…I asked what are you thinking?” I repeated for her convenience.

Now, I have been to singles bars in most cities in India – Delhi, Gurgaon, Mumbai, Bangalore and Chennai – and they all had loud music. I think this is for two reasons – so that one gets the feel that the conversations are going on long and nice (due to all the repeating) and so you don’t realize how hoarse or non-sexy the woman sounds till you hear her say ‘Good Morning!’ in your bed the next day.

“About my ex-husband.” Finally the lady understood and replied.

“Bad divorce?” I showed concern.

“Yes…this whiskey was bought from the last money I had.”

“Shucks…that’s bad. No alimony?” I was under the impression the women almost always ended up with a nice, fat alimony.

“No…we split the house 50-50.”

“That’s good. You can probably sell the house and make some money.” I wasn’t liking the direction the conversation was taking but I considered it foreplay.

“Not really…when I say 50-50 I mean he got the inside and I got the outside.”

“That’s painful. Not thinking of re-marriage?” Now I really wanted to finish this conversation and move on to the next lady.

“I did try. My bad luck, on a blind date session thro’ a website I landed with my ex-husband.”

“Hard luck indeed.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. On the pretext of visiting the washroom, I moved to another area of a singles bar. In the dark, sat a girl (or a woman, if you will!) in her mid 20s staring at the lights above her head.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked.

“The seat is available. Only my heart was taken. Ripped apart, I must say.”

“Sorry?” I repeated. I didn’t know people were so forthcoming in a singles bar. Perhaps it’s the alcohol…perhaps it’s the loud music…perhaps it’s a mix of both.

“Ex-husband?” I tried to show sympathy.


“Why did he rip your heart out…I mean what happened?” Showing of sympathy continued.

“He is a heart Surgeon with Apollo hospitals you see…he does this for a living. I should have known.” There was sarcasm in her voice…sarcasm dipped in a lot of alcohol.

“Why didn’t it work out? I mean, you look pretty and intelligent?!” In my 20 years of flirting, I have realized that no woman can resist being called pretty. And if you add ‘intelligent’ to the sentence your chances of getting laid increase by 25%.

“We weren’t compatible at all….don’t know why I even pursued him for six months.” The lady motioned the waiter to get her a refill.

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I was not liking how this conversation was going and needed another drink to continue my sympathies – and motioned for a refill. In the last 30 minutes I had already felt like Mother Teresa twice.

With nothing to ask her, I pursued the same angle: “Why, what was wrong?”

“Like I said we were incompatible. I am a Gemini and he was an asshole.”

At this moment, I got up and said I had remembered an important errand and excused myself. It was still 11.30 pm and if I rushed back home straight I was sure I could watch a movie before going to bed. Ever since that fateful day, I have never been to a singles bar to pick up or hookup with women.

Note: Within a week I was bored and was willing to give up on my independence in return for having my wife and daughter back.

Men and Women

Exposing the conspiracy of housewives against all men

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To be honest, I am scared. I am worried that the women of this world may eliminate me before I finish this article. In case you find only half of this article hidden somewhere in my laptop, please be aware that mine wasn’t a natural death but a planned, pre-meditated and well-orchestrated murder by the most powerful of the genders – women.

I have accidentally discovered one of their conspiracies. A conspiracy which runs so deep that it must be kept a secret at any cost. A conspiracy which must be safeguarded even if it means doing away with a handsome, young 42-year-old man like myself.

It all happened by accident. About a few months back I quit my job as the Chief Product Officer of Nimbuzz, an instant messenger with more than 250 million users and decided to become a house husband. Yes, that’s right…a house husband.

In these few months of being a house husband I have realised that the women have never wanted the men to become house husbands. They have intentionally kept us away from home – and it is because of the women that we are holed up in offices during the most productive part of our day.

When it comes to other women, they may their own worst enemies (studies have proved this) and umpteen women such as Erica Jong and Brandon Kelly have confirmed this as well. But when it comes to standing together against the weaker of the two sexes – the men – women come together like old drinking buddies. Not giving away a single inch, for the gender whose whole life is determined by a few inches.

These women have been so adept and united in their keeping the house to themselves that there are almost no house husbands. In fact, I am the first house husband I have met in my 42-year-long life. The women have done such a good job that if we were to look around with a microscope, we may not even find five hundred househusbands all over the world. Considering the World’s population of 7.5 Billion, that’s one man allowed to escape from the clutches for every 16 million men. Ladies and Gentlemen, that’s like the dabbawalas of Mumbai – one error in 16 million. Six Sigma, remember?

Coming back to being a house husband, let me tell you that it has been the best thing to have happened to me in the last twenty years. Yes, you read that right…it has been the best thing in twenty freaking years.

These housewives have always been making a huge hue and cry about being a home maker. Contrary to what they want us to believe, it is brilliant, it is amazing and it is zen – being at home is awesome. These women, don’t want us men to quit our jobs and stay at home…and that is why make up all these stories about how being a housewife means loads of work without any pay, how they do multiple things without any appreciation, how it involves offline multitasking (which is much difficult that digital multitasking), how they get tired by 6 pm itself, how they get their mood swings about giving up their career for kids etc.

They don’t want us to conquer this yet to be conquered bastion of the women.

Calling all men out there…step up, raise your game and become a house husband. Everything you have been working hard for has been right under your nose all these years.

In case you are reading this note in my diary, please take copies and send it across to all the leading newspapers of the World so the word gets out. If this has already been published and you are reading this in a newspaper or some website, it means the word is out. Good. Next step is to try and unite all men, and takeover this unconquered bastion of the women.

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If I am murdered to ensure that the conspiracy stays, hard luck guys. You may have to do it on your own. In case, I am still alive you can always approach me for advice on how to convince your wife that you would like to stay at home, how to motivate your wife so that she finds a job and leaves you alone at home, how to spend time at home and not get bored, how to manage kids like their mom would have etc.

Let us show these sneaky housewives that we men can unite. After all, it is time for them to get out while we stay at home.

Note: Changing your kid’s diaper with a beer in one hand and wet wipes in another is a heady feeling. Must try.

Men and Women

What if there were no women in the World

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What if there were no women in the World is a question difficult to answer but before we try to answer that lets try and figure out how women made it to the World, in the first place.

Some say that Adam got bored and asked God to give him a companion and God responded with a woman. Some say, God wanted Adam to sacrifice his one leg and one hand if he wanted a companion and when Adam asked what he could get for a rib, God sent him a woman. The story goes on to say that the woman was delivered with a note sticking to her forehead “This is the best I can give for a rib! Sorry buddy.”

None of this can be believed, though.

However there is documented proof (and the women will vouch for this) that God first made man and having warmed up he came up with a better creation – the woman. (Did I just hear the ladies clap?)

Anyways, I was just wondering what would have happened if God didn`t bring woman into this World. With no women in this World, all the men would have been left to fend for themselves. I mean, all of us do fend for ourselves from time to time, but imagine mastrubation being the only option?

Without women, how will we become fathers? Without women, who will tell us that we were going to become fathers? Without women, for whom will we sit outside a gynecologist’s and imagine a conspiracy theory being hatched against us? If the world didn’t have women, there would be so many questions which would arise. Unless of course, the men didn’t even realize that there were no women in the World. Considering the attention span attributed to the men by the women, thats a possibility too.

But dear women, please don’t get upset with the men who don’t realize that you aren’t even there. For these are the gentlemen. It is the male chauvinistic pigs who will miss you big time, if women were to vanish from the face of Earth or if women were never there to start with. Who will make their tea in the morning? Without the women, who will wash and iron their clothes? Who will warm their water for their bath? With no woman in this world, who will stand in the doorway and wave a good bye when the man is leaving? In the evening who will make hot piping coffee when the man comes back home?

An MCP or a gentleman, with time all men will start missing the women. With no woman in this World, life wouldn`t be the same. Imagine living with another man in your house. Scary! Without women, all men will be gays. Wonder how the human race will propagate. Perhaps we would have found out a way to make test tube babies, but even then where would be egg come from? Gorillas? Wouldn`t that make the Human race huge and hairy?

On Saturday nights, the pubs and clubs would be full of men trying to woo each other. The only advantage as I see would be that we wouldn`t have to buy mocktails, dinners, ice-cream and pop-corn to get laid. That and the fact that the world will be full of sports, beer and expensive gadgets.

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Like I said earlier, the question what if there were no women in the World is difficult to imagine and answer. So lets all pray that women are here to stay.

Men and Women

What if there were no clothes to wear in this World

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Thanks to my wife, today I started imagining about a world without any clothes. Wipe that smirk off your face please, for it is not what you are thinking.

It all started with my wife Rekha wanting me to upgrade my wardrobe. Believe me, survival can be difficult if your wife believes in keeping wardrobes clean and organized. Especially, if after you have spent close to four hours setting it up according to your wife`s wishes and she suddenly says: “Honey, why don`t you upgrade your wardrobe?”

In moments like this, man starts hating clothes, and dreams about a world with no clothes tow ear. Can you imagine a world without shirts, trousers, tshirts? I can imagine a World without skirts and sarees but I draw the line at a world without clothes for men!

If only Adam & Eve hadn`t touched the apple, we all would today be roaming about naked – without clothes. But the two did a huge favor for the textile industry, which would not have existed but for the demand for clothes. Without the textile industry, where would all the fashion designers go? What about all those dumb models who showcase the latest in clothes? Without the fashion industry churning out clothes for the World, where would all the gays go?

Without clothes, fashion designers, and models the best buddy of all married men – Fashion TV – will remain a dream. No print or TV advertisements for brands like Allen Solly, Basics, Dockers etc.

If there were no clothes to wear in this World, it will be a blessing in disguise for the men. You, naughty! I meant the shopping. Imagine the number of hours our girlfriends/wives will cut off from their shopping time if clothes were not on the list? There would be no trial rooms in shops, unless you want to try out the new pressure cooker you are buying. In which case the trial rooms also need to have a gas stove, but we will talk about that later.

Needless to say, there will be no formal and informal dressing. Thus, no business suit and no Friday dressing and of course no marriage gowns. How would we identify the bride in the crowd? My guess is that only the bridegroom would know who the bride is. Pretty safe, isn’t it? But then without any clothes in the World, everybody will see what the bridegroom was to see during his first night.

Shorelines will get less exciting because there will be no nude beeches. With everybody roaming around naked, men will resort to eye-rape and thus we will be able to reduce rape incidents in the community. Jack the Rippers will get into cold storage. But if at all somebody goes overboard and indulges in the heinous crime, the police will be in a fix. They will find it difficult to differentiate between the rapist and the victim. Aren`t the victims always identified with their torn clothes?

Even if the police have to rush to the rape spot, where will they keep their pistol? No trouser to tuck it in. And with no trouser, there will be no pockets to keep wallets, mobiles and kerchiefs. They will have to strap them on or hang them from somewhere.

A world without clothes was a scary thought. Rekha snapped me out of my thoughts with a louder question: “What were you thinking about?”

“What if there were no clothes to wear in this World.”

“A World without clothes, you mean? Thats scary!” For the first time after our marriage my wife had agreed with me.

I let out a happy, “Yeah” and re-arranged my clothes.

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Men and Women

Why every woman wants to be a bear in next life

In this life I’m a woman. In my next life, I’d like to come back as a bear. When you are a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that.

Before you hibernate, you are supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

When you are a girl bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you are sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.

If you are a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you are a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling and not glowing. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup… I am gonna be a bear.

Why bears are like women
Because both bears and women are almost always “bearly” dressed 😉

Note: I didn’t write this. Got this as a forward.

Men and Women

They start loving young these days

Way back in 1963 when India was reeling under the pressures of the 1962 Indo-China war, and the scammed Defence Minister VK Krishna Menon was cooling his heels God knows where (perhaps in God own Country), a 16 year old village girl was falling in love.

Selvi was in love with the shepherd who took his 100 odd goats to the meadows, from in front of her house. He looked strong, had enough goats and had once smiled too – meaning he can be made happy. She decided to get married to him. But God had other plans for her.

Forty six years later, my mother tells me that she didn`t have the courage to walk up to her father and tell him that she loved a shepherd and NOT the Armyman he had planned for her. But as always happens, God had other plans…she married the Armyman – my father.

In stark contrast is what we experienced in Rhea`s Parents Teachers Association Meeting yesterday at Modern Montessori International at Gurgaon. Here is how it unfolds.

The watch man at the school gates looked at my two and a half years old daughter, who was safely cocooned in Rekha`s arms and said: “Hey Rhea, how are you and what plans for the weekend?”

I wanted to turn into a ventriloquist and speak out in Rhea`s voice: “Actually uncle, this weekend I plan to pee & shit in my diapers 13 times, mince my fingers in between the doors once, smell a rose bush and in the process pierce my nose with a thorn.”

But I didn`t because I can`t mimic Rhea, yet.

We then met the receptionist of the school – a very pretty lady. The problem with attending a PTA meeting is that, you can`t pretend that you are unmarried. Even if you manage to convince that you are unmarried, where will you hide your child? Let us say you are a Mr Natwarlal and manage to hide your child….what do you do with your wife?

Considering all these constraints, I didn`t look at the receptionist in the eyes and say: “You looking pretty, today. What do you think of me?” Besides, Rekha was right behind me.

[Know the famous Johnny Bravo line: “You smell kinda pretty. Wanna smell me?”]

But I did gather the courage to discuss the receptionist`s beauty with my wife.

“She is very pretty. Isn`t she?” I insisted.

“Every woman is pretty. And she is definitely pretty.” Rekha callously remarked.

“Should I compliment her?” I asked.

“Why? Are you her boy friend? Or Husband?” My wife has these pre-conceived notions that certain compliments can be given by only certain people.

“I don`t need to be her boy friend to compliment her. But if you want me to become her boy friend first and then compliment, I am fine.” A husband shouldn`t always be scared of his wife. He should learn to raise his voice when he is right.

The problem with being a very obedient husband is that you aren`t expected to raise your voice and when you do you are silenced with a killer stare.

Anyway, finally we got down to what we had come for – the Parents Teachers Association Meeting. Here is what Rhea`s teachers had to say about Rhea. As always, expert comments in the brackets have been provided by me.

1) Very affectionate child (just like how her father is with all the women)
2) Loves Rhyme Time (just like how her father is. At one point in his life he was multi-timing with Kavita, Geeta, & Sunita – all rhyming names)
3) She sticks to the single Malayali teacher in the Play Group (Differs with her father here. He holds no such communal bias when it comes to women)

As we were getting out of her class room, the maid who attends to the Play Group looked at us and laughed. She then pointed us out for another maid, who came running to see us. And laughed.

That`s when my antennae went up and I asked them: “What happened?”

Apparently, Rhea has a boy friend in school. His name is Yashyash. We were told they are always together…sitting in class, having snacks together and having lunch together.

We didn`t make much of it and went to the book exhibition that the school had worked out inside its walls. There we met five parents and all of them told us that Rhea and Yashyash are an item. One even said they were like Shahid and Kareena…oops…like Saif and Kareena.

Being a protective father, I asked the fifth lady parent: “How are you so sure?”

She was calm and replied: “I see them daily while dropping and picking up my son. They are always together.”

“Does Yashyash also travel in the same bus?” I asked.

“Please don`t think I am complaining but…yes…they hold hands and get onto the bus and sit next to each other,” She said sheepishly.

“And then?” I was fuming and curious to know the whole story.

“And then, they sleep off on each other,” She said. And added as an after thought: “I mean, they just doze off and get picked at their respective bus stops by their mothers.”

Post Script: On the way back, I did a litmus test of Rhea`s love. I asked her: “Rhea, whom do you love most?” I was hoping she would say ‘Appa` and Rekha was hoping she would say ‘Amma`….but Rhea ended up saying ‘Yashyash.`

More Funny Reads

# Love and hate relationships with wives
# When Ram suspected Sita
# Natural child birth is painful for the husband too
# Group dynamics in a married man`s house

Men and Women

Getting locked inside somebody’s washroom

First things first – I attended Caferati`s Delhi Meet on Sunday evening (from 4.30 p.m. to 8 p.m.). I was accompanied by wife Rekha and daughter Rhea. I know it does sound like a Minister’s entourage…but I am not yet a Minister.

We landed at the meeting place at 5.30 p.m. – a full one hour behind schedule – and after the third person had read his article, a break was announced. Like the innocent boy (or should that be man?) that I am I headed straight for the washroom.

There was a queue of four people. What is with writers? Why do they always rush for the washrooms? I wondered even as I stood in the queue. The writers going in were taking so long that …I started thinking of how Charles Darwin`s theory of Natural selection (and Evolution) applies to writers.

Here is how: I think the writers of the iron-age were actually the territory markers. These good for nothing men (and later women) were sent to urinate around the territory because they weren`t strong enough for running, jumping & lifting – the three prerequisite for becoming a hunter. I am told blogging didn`t exist back then.

Over a period of time, these territory markers learnt to write “I” while they pissed. With time, they were able to write complex alphabets like “H” and “C”. With practice, they moved on to the absolute killers like “B” and “W”. Let me remind you that back then only the men acted as territory markers.

In order to write more, the ‘writers` started drinking more water from the water hole…and started to mark more territory. Eventually, they started writing whole words like “Sky” or “Goat”. As time passed by, territory markers who could hold more water in their urinary bladder were promoted as senior territory markers and thus flourished while those that failed the natural selection fell by the way side.

After a few centuries…women joined the party. Thankfully, by this time the ‘writers` had started writing ON THE cave walls.

Ever since, people with huge bladders have ended up becoming writers…and with no territory marking to be done…they end up crowding the washrooms at every writers meet.

It seemed like ages, before I got a chance to get into the Annie`s washroom. Annie (Not so sure…but I think she works for Frontline Magazine) was hosting the Caferati session at her house.

As soon as I entered the washroom, I attained nirvana – the kind that only other men can understand. If I were to give an example that a lady would understand: Imagine finding your lost i-Pill the morning after your one-night stand with a humor blogger? How relieved would you be?

Once inside, I surveyed the washroom. It was during one such survey in my earlier boss` house that I came to know of soaps – since then I have used one.

The feeling of being on your own can sometimes make you a very responsible person – so I lifted the lid, relieved myself, put back the lid again, and flushed. It was when I tried to get out of the washroom, that the tragedy struck. I had locked myself in.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen…this favorite blogger of yours had locked himself up inside somebody else`s washroom. Like the brave man that I am, I stepped back – a lesson learnt from my mom (she always said, “whenever you see the flames rising in the gas stove, step back!”) and let out a sigh. How was I going to tackle this, I asked myself.

Luck was stacked against me:

– This was my first time with Caferati and I didn`t know anybody
– Rekha wasn`t carrying a mobile, so I couldn`t alert her
– My daughter was too young so she also didn`t have a mobile

Like I have said many times before us Rajans are built to survive and keeping this in mind, I gently knocked the door. Since everybody was at the reading (writers, don`t just write…you know?) they didn`t hear me.

I repeated myself:

Knock Knock

Knock Knock

Knock Knock

Knock Knock

When there was no response. I called out….

Anybody there?

Anybody there?

Anybody there?

Anybody there?

You should thank God that it wasn`t you…for I was able maintain my cool in the buried-like-a-miner scenario only because I happen to be one of the Rajans. Being one of the Rajans comes with a big responsibility…we are forced to keep ourselves alive for the World. So I shouted:

“Somebody please save me…looks like I am going to die!”

I don`t now what happened after that. When I got up after two hours – with a Samosa stuffed in my mouth and a smiley drawn on my face with Close Up toothpaste – I was told I had fainted inside the washroom. I don`t believe them…for I remember shouting instructions at the people gathered …on how to open the door from outside…

Alternative headline for this article, which I didn`t use: Jammy dazzles at Caferati Meet on Sunday