Category: Uncategorized

Girl to her class teacher: “My daddy just got a new car!”
“That`s nice,” says the teacher. “So is he all excited?”
The girl replies: “Of course yes. He spent the whole night re-painting and changing the number plates.”

As always, today also somebody broke into somebody else`s house in Chennai. This has been happening regularly.

What are these enterprising men and women called? Thieves, robbers, burglars, dacoits, bandits…why do we need so many names for them? No wonder, the policemen have such trouble finding out the culprits. Ironically, I know only two synonyms for God – almighty and the American President.

I myself used to be a kleptomaniac once. For a long time I was taking something for it. But then realized, that when the doctor advised me to take something to cure kleptomania…he didn`t mean Priya`s fountain pen or Sudip`s 500 rupees or Satish`s 512 Mb Thumb drive.

This kleptomaniac tendency of mine even forced me to rob a bank. It was neither a sperm bank nor a blood bank. I am talking of a real money bank. I can`t reveal the bank`s name here because I am currently working on a tunnel from that bank`s safe vault and I don`t want them to smarten up. Anyways, I covered my face with a black mask…and took along a gun (the costly black ones you get during Diwali). The good thing about bank employees is that they are paranoid their whole working life – practicing the theft procedure to be followed in case of emergency. Thus, when the actual test comes…they fumble.

Like I said, I entered the bank and ordered all customers to lie on their tummies and keep their hands behind their heads. One guy got down on the floor and started telling me about the time when he met Julia Roberts and she proposed to him and all. When I asked him to shut up…he reminded me that I had only asked him to ‘lie` on his stomach. I had to then clarify my request and all customers went down to the floor and kept quite.

I then moved towards the cashier and asked him to show me the money vault. He smiled, and pointed at a big screen on the wall. It was a huge map of the Bank and somebody was blinking a message to me…it said “You are Here”.

I couldn`t believe this! I had just entered the bank and the police already knew where in the bank I stood. Having seen numerous Hollywood movies, I knew that by now, I would be in a sniper`s cross hair (that`s the cross used to aim, while using a rifle).

I had to surrender. Two years later, when in jail I would come to know that such screens are known as “You Are Here Charts” and are supposed to assist a newcomer to the premises.

I won`t reveal how many years I spent in the Jail. If you are really particular, here is a hint: when Amitabh Bachchan movie ‘Coolie` was being shot inside a jail in 1983 (remember the jahan hum khade hotein hain, line wahin se shuru hoti hai, dialogue?) I was watching it from my cell.

Now you know why this Blog is biographical. Don`t all jailbirds write biographies?

This is a post, which can be used against me the day I run for Mayor`s office in Chennai. Or after I become the Indian President. Remember US President George Bush faced trouble over his drug revelations. Or was it Arnold ‘Terminator` Schwarzenegger?

When I was young…I said No to drugs. But nobody listened. I shouted at the faces of some people but to no avail. Nobody took notice of me. I think it was around this time that I took to drugs. Needless to say, after my first snort…everybody started noticing me. I was popular.

For convenience sake let us refer to people who take drugs as drugsters (don`t we refer to people who protest as protesters?).

Back then, the World was too normal and we were forced to take drugs to make it exciting (loud, noisy, funky, colorful)…but now the World is too exciting and we take drugs like Anacin, Saridon, etc to make it appear normal.

During my flirtation with drugs, I was pretty close to my supplier. Unlike in the movies, this supplier…never sniffed…and never had girls around him…and never smoked like a chimney. Here is a conversation I once had with him –

“Why don`t you use drugs yourself?”

“I once had half an ounce of my 2 Kg brown sugar consignment, which had just then landed.”

“Did you like it?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, I did. But I lost the whole consignment to the police. Not to mention the two years in jail when they found me unconscious near my consignment.”

“That`s sad. But if you guys don`t take that much drug…who are your biggest takers?”

“The customs officers, of course.”

I didn`t argue with the man. Just picked up my ounce and went my way. I wouldn`t have remembered this conversation had it not been for this friend of mine whom I saw on the way out…he was stoned.

“How did it happen?” I asked him.

He was relatively quick for somebody who had been stoned. He said: “By mistake, I drank wet cement.”

I tried to bring some sense to him. Having decided to quit myself…I thought I had the right to advice a fellow drugster.

“Mate, you need to give up drugs.” I said.

“How can I do that? You know it…it is quite addictive.”

I precisely knew what he meant. It is quite an addictive hobby…but then…I had to explain it to him that there was more to life that just drugs.

I gave him that fatherly look and said: “You know, you need to make little things count and make your life exciting.”

My friend was moved by my concern and asked an innocent question.

“When you ask me to make little things count…are you asking me to teach arithmetic to dwarfs?”

I gave up advising right then, and got back to romancing with drugs. I never said No for a long time…until that day when I tried to sniff Coke. I tried hard but the straw kept coming in the way. When I removed the straw, I almost drowned…coz the Coke flooded my nose. I am glad I didn`t have ice cubes in the coke…I would have probably died due to suffocation.

I think that was the day when I said ‘I know` to drugs!

Apparently, traveling makes one intelligent and broad-minded.

Am not so sure, coz I traveled the whole of last weekend and my spectacles fits me just fine. From puking eight times between 12 midnight and 6.30 a.m. to traveling to Madurai in a 3rd AC with loud pack of Gujaratis, to picking up a fight with an auto-rickshaw guy for 10 bucks, to traveling in a rickety bus for three hours, to watching a 1980s Vijaykanth movie during a bumpy ride, to getting my uncle`s car grounded, to eating half a kilogram of pongal…I did everything this weekend.

One of Rekha`s relatives had once asked me, “So what is the right time to travel to Madurai?”

I said: “The best time to travel to Madurai is between age 18 to 34. Any travel before or after could be tiring.”

Somehow, age has not stopped my in-laws from traveling to Chennai. They will be here for the long Republic Day weekend. Am glad. If they had come during the Independence Day holidays…it would have been real irony. Imagine me losing my independence on Independence day?

Incidentally, travel works both ways. When you travel, you can inconvenience the stationary objects (relatives staying in the city you are traveling to) or somebody traveling with you can inconvenience you. Especially, if you were traveling with your bitter half…oops…better half.

Take for example, this incident that happened in Matthuthavanai (the biggest Bus stand in Madurai). I asked a bus driver, “Will your Bus No. 12B take me to Reserve Line bus stop?”

The driver gave an emphatic reply: “No sir, this bus can`t take you to the Reserve Line Bus stop.”

As has been happening ever since we got married, Rekha was watching all this from the sidelines. The driver hadn`t even finished, when she stepped forward and asked the driver: “Will it take me?”

During my travel, I also happened to visit Sivakasi – the land of matchboxes and fireworks. Like all cities, this too has a urban legend, narrated to me by a 24-year-old cousin. As all urban legends, this happened two years ago. A rich fireworks factory owner had decided to take Viagra when his wife left India to be with her kids for summer. Apparently, most rich kids from small towns now head for the US and refuse to take up their ancestral business. Anyways, coming back to the Viagra story…this rich factory owner tried taking Viagra but the capsule got stuck in his throat. Legend has it that the next day he got up with a really stiff neck.

We were back on the Chennai soil on Monday morning. Even as I unlocked our house…I realized…I hadn`t been complimented by anybody during this trip to Madurai and Sivakasi. In comparison, the Keralites (my wife`s relatives) had given me a compliment the last time we went visiting. I remember they calling me a PERFECT idiot!

In the name of humour, we will now learn to respect and appreciate the capabilities of the disabled.

I wouldn`t have written this piece had it not been for this stupid guy in my office who parks in the handicap-parking slot. I tried to argue with him…but he just wouldn`t listen. Eventually, he agreed that he has a handicap…if stupidity could be one.

I asked him: “Do you ever participate in the Special Olympics?”

“What is that?”

“It is a special Olympics to recognize the capabilities of the disabled…like you.”

“Wow…can I also go there?” He seemed pretty excited.

“Yes mate. You can participate. In fact…Kho-Kho for the disabled will be held on 14 & 15 Jan, 2006 at Patna, Bihar. This could be a selection event for the 2007 Special Olympics to be held in China.” More Here

I started walking even before I finished…and I wondered if outside of the stadium, I would find one parking slot marked “For non-handicaps only”.

This had happened to me once in school. We had a blind classmate who was good in music. At the annual day celebration, he won the first prize – a cheese grater. Not knowing what it actually was…he started reading it. He thought it was a storybook in Braille. He never realized and we never told him but even to this day…he thinks the story shouldn`t have ended the way it did.

This friend used to wear dark glasses. I wondered…why glasses? If there is a reason, why don`t the deaf wear something on their ears? Talking of ears…did you know Mike Tyson was once named Sportsman of the Ear?

Only half the disable men (and women) in this World have a reason to be disabled. The rest acquire disability. Take for example…the former Philippine First Lady (and World’s best-known shoe collector) Imelda Marcos. What if she were to be amputated? What would happen to all her shoes? Will she have a yard sale or something? Or will she prefer the e-bay?

The fun things in life even out after marriage. Perhaps it is the commitment. Some call it baggage.

Last evening…Rekha and I visited a gynecologist. It was quite an experience.

She has been asking me to take her to a gynecologist for a month. I was postponing the meeting…perhaps because I couldn`t find a male gynecologist in the whole of Chennai. I wouldn`t have really minded a lady gynecologist…but one of my married friends scared me by saying they also take semen samples.

A visit to the gynecologist is one of those things where the lady takes the lead. I felt I was walking right into a marriage. Didn`t Rekha take the lead at all marriages too? Clad in her pattu saree with jasmine flowers adorning her dyed hair, jewelry decorating her long but old neck. As in marriage, here also I walked behind Rekha.

The receptionist was a lady and I can swear she gave me a smirk. Rekha says it was my imagination. Though my wife had fixed the appointment at 8 pm, we had to wait till 8.30 pm before we saw the gynecologist.

The waiting period was most fun. The room was filled with wanting to be pregnant women and pregnant women. Everybody was asking the other questions like – “So, how many months?”, “When is it due?”, “Is the child healthy?”.

Thanks to my eagerness to mingle with the ladies (to impress Rekha, of course)…I almost landed in trouble. I ended up asking a 7-month pregnant lady: “So who is the father?”. I suggest, if you are a small man like me…never ask such questions. It could land you in trouble especially if the lady`s husband is like a testosterone-driven hulk I encountered last night.

Some of the ladies had a baby on their bosom and another in their stomach (not medically, of course). Wonder why the hurry…I have heard of film-makers hurrying their releases…but even parents? Talking of movies…can we do a ‘releasing at the theatre near you` on the babies too? Releasing at an operating theatre near you….

The men were a busy lot too….exchanging cards, for they knew they would be encountering each other for the next nine months or so. A few men were heard whispering about a sob-and-let-it-out club called ‘The Expectant Fathers Group` near the Central Railway station.

Even as we entered, the gynecologist gave me a look. I knew she wanted to say: “Is this guy your husband? No wonder…you had to meet to me!” Rekha says the gynecologist gave no such look and it was all my imagination.

The gynecologist spoke to us for five minutes and said that both of us were stressed out. I couldn`t ask the gynecologist but ask you: You marry off two totally different people and ask them to make compromises and then ask them not to be stressed out? Not fair.

As for why we went to the gynecologist… I just wanted to check if I needed to change my glasses.

One of the greatest gamblers of our time died on 26th Dec 2005. Kerry Packer – the Aussie cricket-lover, businessman and billionaire, who gambled with the way cricket was played, is no more.

Some 20-25 years ago when cricket was still played in whites, Kerry Packer intervened and changed the way cricket would be played.

Even BBC thinks Kerry Packer was a compulsive gambler. Read Profile | Wikipedia on Kerry Packer |

The Aussie got English cricket captain Tony Grieg to recruit talented “rebel” cricketers who were willing to dump their country. The day-night matches – to ensure more eye-balls – were telecast on Packer’s TV Channel. Viewer-ship sky-rocketed because of his innovative telecast which involved a shorter version of the game, colored clothing, drinks breaks with modified trolleys, white balls, and floodlights…not to mention top talents from West Indies, South Africa, England and Australia.

He also owned a casino…and 75% of all magazines in Australia.

Gambling paid for this man. Unfortunately, it doesn’t pay for me.

Now for what you actually came to this blog for – some humour!

The other day when, I was in Rekha`s favorite meat-shop buying a kilo of chicken, I befriended the butcher. To lighten things up…I tried entering into a bet with him but he refused to indulge saying “No sir, the steaks are too high.” I had to walk off.

The next week, I met the butcher again. This time, he had time on his hand and was friendlier. He started off saying he had been a compulsive gambler when young…had lost all his money at Las Vegas.

“Why? What happened?”

“I took my wife along and we tempted each other and before we could realize…it was all over,” he said.

“If you lost everything, how did you manage to start this meat-shop and cold storage business?” I was curious.

“We managed to leave Las Vegas with a small fortune.”

“You mean you won after all?”

“No…sir. We had entered Las Vegas with a bigger fortune.”

The butcher had tears in his eyes, and I decided to leave the ex-compulsive-gambler alone when he was upset. Especially since, he had a big butcher`s knife.

A few days back I was in a library, reading a book titled: “A brief History of the times when everything was going right and everybody was happy”

I wouldn`t have spotted this book in the reference rack if my eyes hadn`t rushed to this huge 600 page hard-bound titled “How to Hug”. Only after I took it out of the rack…did I realize it was the 7th volume of Encyclopedia, placed just before the 8th volume “Hut to Indigo”.

In the history aptly titled: “A brief History of the times when everything was going right and everybody was happy,” I read about a British archeologist who discovered Borra Caves in Andhra Pradesh. According to him…they are amazing, natural caves made 300 million years ago. It seems a few years after discovering the caves, the archeologist had also discovered a 6,000 year old skeleton between the rocks. In his Analysis Report he wrote: “We have definite proof that we have found the skeleton of a man who died of a heart attack 6,000 years back. Please find attached a gamblers receipt which says he placed 3,000 pearls on Goliath winning the David vs Goliath battle.”

Moral of the Story: No Gambler can be outstanding in his field. We all need to leave it to the farmer to be outstanding in his field.

Warning: Please read Part 1 published yesterday before you proceed.

When pretty girls are around,
It is difficult to keep me down.

Wow. That sure sounded like a poem.

The train was now in Andhra Pradesh. I could tell by the bright colored clothes worn by the locals, Chinranjeevi posters on walls, and YS Rajasekhar Reddy cut outs on buildings. As confirmation…eunuchs were all around. Perhaps, you didn`t know that in Andhra Pradesh, there is a new class called ‘professional eunuchs,` who are actually men dressed up like eunuchs. During the day they force people to part with ten rupee notes and in the evenings, dress up like men and …chase girls. They are so good at work that they have even managed to take their success story to Mumbai.

I brushed, washed and sat next to the same three girls. It looked as if my competitors – the other 20 odd men in the group – were at work even as I spelt. For everybody barring me was having a dialogue with them.

Having been cornered, I decided to shift focus. I took out the Newsweek I was carrying especially for such an occasion started reading. It was the same Newsweek, I had read during my trip to Madurai last month. Mind you, Newsweek is a weekly.

Breakfast involved a plate of two idlies and two vada bought at one of the stations. It took me a while to find out that it wasn`t good enough and I threw them the four pieces next to the railway track. As soon as the bad idlies and vada hit the ground, we saw a small boy rush to the spot, pick it up, brush away the soil and hand it over to the shop-keeper so that he could sell it again. Nice business sense. Being smart people, we immediately comprehended the situation and crushed the idlies and vada before we threw them – just how we would do to a Mineral water bottle to avoid reuse.

After breakfast, I decided to inform Rekha about the supposed landing of my flight the previous night itself. Since I couldn`t call her (she would have easily found out I was in a train…she has learnt tricks from the movie Trainspotting), I had to message her.

Here is the message: Dear Rekha, Landed in Vishakhapatnam last night 10.30 p.m.. Had to rush to the disco – this VP is a party freak. After late night dinner went to Taj Residency and crashed. When I got up in the morning, the VP was all dressed up waiting for me to get up. Our meeting with Microsoft was at 8 a.m.. Now in a meeting. Will call you later.

I got a reply: Good luck sweetie. Try and eat something. I have already watched four movies and spoke to my parents seven times in your absence.

I felt the guilt, but as they say ‘in love and war everything is legal`. It was a war of nerves between Rekha and I.

We landed in Vishakhapatnam around 3 p.m.. Tired, hungry and dirty. The travel had lasted 18 hours.

After a short bus journey, which lasted 20 minutes and during which our bus pulled down three overhead cables, we reached Taj Residency. The reception was great. Just that there was nobody to receive us with garlands etc.

Nobody messes with 30 tired, dirty and hungry well-built men and women…so as soon as we landed we were shown our rooms and asked to meet at the Harbour View restaurant for lunch. Wow…what lunch. Can you please excuse me now…I am going to eat for a while.

The next post will be published on Thursday (22nd Dec) and will be on how I exploited Taj Residency, Vishakhapatnam.

All companies don`t take their associates to far-flung places for team building exercises. Mine did, and I used it to the maximum.

The place was Vishakhapatnam, and about 30 of us were to travel to the place together. We were to travel by the Vizag Express train; in the 2nd class (my favorite). The same evening, I told my wife Rekha.

“I will be going to Vishakhapatnam.”

“Wow…finally you get to travel at work.” My wife sounded enthusiastic.

[Rekha has always thought that it is only the senior management that travels when at work]

“Yes. I begin traveling at work.” I reassured her.

“When are you flying?”

“Flying?” I didn`t understand her question but then it struck me. She was thinking that my company was paying for an airplane ticket. “Ohh…yes, flying…I would be taking the 9 p.m. Jet Airways flight to Vishakhapatnam.”

[How could I let down my company. My wife works for my company`s competitor]

With Rekha convinced that I was traveling at work, I could rest assured that all my relatives (and hers) would come to know of my trip to Vishakhapatnam. Sure enough within two days I started receiving calls from grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles, nephews and nieces wishing me Bon Voyage. I am glad nobody decided to send me off at the airport. Even if somebody did decide, I wouldn`t have known for I was at the Central station getting into a 2nd class compartment. More on this later.

Packing for the trip was quite an exercise. We had to dust the bag we hadn`t used since our honeymoon, 14 months back. Both of us took a day off and finished with the packing. For the record, among the 30 associates who traveled with me…my bag was the largest. Pssst…Rekha still doesn`t know 30 other associates traveled with me. She still thinks…there was a Vice-President and then there was I…and we had gone to Vishakhapatnam to broker a million dollar deal with Microsoft.

After a million parting kisses and hugs, I left for the station. Luckily, from our house, both the airport and railway station are in the same direction.

I reached the station half an hour earlier. The others started coming in too. They looked an enthusiastic bunch (mind you, I will meet them daily at work). For every ten young men, there were three girls. “Survival is going to be tough,” I told myself and sat on the bench as an observer. Meanwhile, I also called up Rekha and told her that I reached the airport. She did ask me about all that background noise…I had to convince her that with all the cheap airlines like Deccan and Spice Jet coming up, the airport was looking (and sounding) like a railway station.

I put a reminder to call Rekha in another half an hour and tell her that I was getting into the airplane. The second reminder was for calling her up after one and half hours and announcing that that I had landed in Vishakhapatnam. I have always believed that a well-planned lie, could end up be becoming the truth.

The train trip began on a good note. Even before the train started rolling (at 9 p.m.) I had strategically positioned myself next to three pretty girls. Unfortunately…a certain Mr Anand and a certain Mr Atanu also landed right next to me. Competition.

Thanks to this competition, when I went to sleep at midnight… I realized I had ignored the reminders I had set earlier…and Rekha had also given me six missed calls. A lot of explanation was pending. But first…some sleep.

Part 2 – Coming up on Wednesday