Thursday, May 31, 2007


Most often these words come out of a totally shattered and devastated heroine, most often the dialogue which just precedes the intermission of an Indian movie, most often the words that determine the worthiness of a women in India. I fail to understand this as to why the heroine is devastated and baffled, it's a mere case of 'cause and effect', I fail to understand the drama associated with the very dialogue for afterall child birth is statistically the most common event in India and what an amusing measure of one's worthiness, if that be it, Indian women are all truly worthy. India has 343455345345... Indians as on date, which effectively means that the same dialogue must have been uttered atleast 1763453656.... times but the fact that it still manages to stir up an emotional wave in the society is possible only with our own society. What if a person walks out of the bedroom on the nuptial night and "announces" that he/she is done with "it" and a whole lot of people gather around to congratulate him/her as a personal achievement, rejoice it and what if the whole aura takes a festive look, it is something as ridiculous as that to celebrate the birth of a child in India. I can reason out if the parents of the child are happy about the arrival and probably their own kith and kin, but why does the whole locality, the whole community, Tom, Dick, Harry, Chimman Chacha and Pummy Aunty feel the same excitement gripping them? Strange, very strange! The hype, the drama and the importance tagged onto child birth in our society can never be explained in any sane terms.

No jokes, India is so full of people. Every empty area in and around a city seems occupied. There is an astonishing number of us here. but has any one ever questioned at what cost is our population increasing by leap and bounds? We do not live out of nothing, we are slowly eating away into the environment, into the forest, the water bodies, into the habitat of the animals, but nobody seem to realize or care. We are reproducing mindlessly, endlessly. The ˜We two, ours one" policy in itself is a luxury in India, but people hardly stop with one. The affluent go ahead with more than one because "they can afford it", the middle class believe in strong family bonding and the economically lower class have much tougher issues to handle in a day and are clueless of the big picture. The Effect !!!! Mind blowing!!!!India exploding!!

The primary cause to this in my view is the attitude deeply ingrained in our minds. To become a mother is generally looked upon as the purpose of a woman's life, and to make her one is an achievement in a man's life. Barren woman is a mockery in our society. My grandmother was a proud mother of nine children and each of them added nothing less than two in the treasury. Any statistics relating to the Indian population are so full of astronomical figures, but the medal tally at the Olympics puts us down in shame. None can deny the contribution of Indian intelligence across the globe in various fields, no doubt they do us proud, but a closer look at the ratio is pretty depressing. A whole lot of us barely contribute anything to India, a very few of us even think on such lines. We don't have to be great patriots, don't have to fight the Kargil war, don't have to stick on to dothi or saree, each one just needs to do their own work to their best, India will soon be worth of its population. The effluent masses are currently more active in the nights than at daytime, because what bothers us most now is to find a heir for the family. We need to get more active at the daytime and shift the Indian image from being highly "reproductive" to being highly "productive”. If we cant do that atleast we can always ask people to apply for BPO sector or Social organization like these where night activity take a different turn all together making India proud in literal sense. Women must look forward to more than announcing "oh I’m pregnant!" in their lives and the men do better look out for other venues of achievement. Couples who don't have a kid must go ahead and adopt a kid, instead of considering themselves a failure or instead of complaining about fate, luck, God and whatever. In any species to have an offspring is natural, let’s not make it supernatural!!

The article is longish, but I blame it on the Indian population!!!!!

Rat Killer

I had almost drifted off to sleep when I heard the scream of my Badi ammi (big mother in Hindi; Aunt in English).

“Now what?” I asked myself and went rushing to see what has come over her.
I was shocked to see the state she was in. She was holding her 400 pound Suitcase in primate attacking way.
“I smell a rat somewhere!” My cousin her son said.
It was true! A rat has dug his way into her bag where she carried her whole kitchen when she came down a week back to stay with us!

“This is the last straw!” I said. The rat has been messing up our house almost daily.
This bloody rat brought up in the contaminated air of Blore was contaminating our lives.
Water has gone beyond our nose we decided unanimously to trap the rat and kill it.

We would have killed it right away had it not been for my cousin who objected and convinced us that it was plain cruelty be it a cat or a rat, and it should not be killed but should be trapped and set free in wild as if we are from Nat Geo working with Rare breed of some wild animals or let off downstairs where our elderly landlord resides with never ending chatter box called Mrs landlord.

Her majesty Padma Aunty (Queen maid of our house who derives more salary than me), the all-in-all, and our savior during these kinds of emergencies and lot many others, was called for. Her enthusiasm in catching rats was abnormal. She bought a trap the next day and placed it in one of the corners after sniffing the room. . As if she had smelt the route the rat had taken the day before, she confidently placed the trap in a particular angle.. This trap was a death trap in which if the rat got caught, it was instantaneous death for the rat.

“Got something left?” she asked
‘No, Padma we ate whatever my mom bought ” my cousin said.
“Not for me, ayyeo!!, I need something to place on the hook of the trap, so that the rat would come and eat it and get caught!” she stopped for want of breath. “Maybe a piece of masal vada! I cooked”, she asked.

There was none left Padma Aunty felt proud that we ate till the last scrap of her delicious Vada, however the truth is, its so very delicious that not us... not even the street dogs living in our lane had developed that good taste thus we always have to go 1 mile away and drop it in front of the dogs outside Talli Beer Bar.
Dogs there are always intoxicated and don't mind good food.

“We have chappathis left over. Shall I bring it?” I asked.
She was worried that she might get these chappathis for her lunch the next day!
‘Ok, whatever!” she said. Padma Aunty was impatient. She wanted her work done quickly so that she can go for her evening Maid meetings.

I lay awake waiting for the rat to come. There was some rattle-tattle and “phut!” I did not bother to look at the trap but went off to sleep.

To our disappointment, what we saw in the trap the next morning was not the rat but a squirrel, which had accidentally entered the room. It was dead.

Next day, my cousin was grumpy and yelled.
“How can you all kill an animal? ( As if it was a planned Genocide executed by me, Badi ammi and Padma Aunty) You should have bought the other model and the squirrel would not have died. Squirrel or a rat, a life is a life!!”

“Ok, ok, it wont happen again!” I assured him.
The next day, we got the other model and placed it with a masal vada on the hook. “Chappathis are not lucky, let’s tempt the rat with a vada!” Padma Aunty made vadas, and reserved one for the guest, hoping rats are fool enough to eat what we could never digest I was wondering if rat eat that vada it doesn't need to be trapped it will die due to food poisoning.
The first two days passed off with the rat creeping in quietly, and tactfully eating the masal vadas and escaping! Successfully the rat got caught on the third day. Probably the old masal vada had become too hard and it tried to pull it from the hook but its efforts failed and it fell into the trap! Our saviour Padma was again called, to take the trap and leave the rat somewhere far away.. She came and took the trap outside.
Eager to see what the rat was doing, we watched from the terrace as our Knight in Saree Padma Aunty majestically walked out with the trap towards the gate. The rat was squeaking and squealing from inside the trap. She was walking along so proudly with the trap as if it was some brave act she had done. As she approached the gate, unaware that we were watching, she slowed down, looked eitherways, sat down and opened the trap slowly. First she let it escape so that it could run a little. Then in a jiffy, she caught the rat by its tail, whirled it and thrashed it on the ground and killed it. Then she threw it on the roadside and walked off. It was a gruesome sight.

Next night, it was the same story! Rattle-tattle! Another rat on the move! Now we were discussing if we may have to get a cat to get rid of the rats before we start hearing “ouches” again!

No more complains better robin hood rat than making our dear old Padma Aunty a Serial killer.

My Friend...Zeenat!

Read this article in the news paper the other day about the eunuchs & the phobia people experienced when they accidentally cross path with them.

I have a story to tell about my friend Zeenat, the eunuch from my yesteryears.

I was a teenager then, growing up with all kinds of insecurities, like my looks (was painfully thin & gawky), would I fare well in my examinations? would I be accepted by bombay crowd and its load of arrogance? will I be able to board the 8:25 local train to arrive at Matunga Rd sharp at 9.15 am…?heck….my list of worries were endless.

At my school DonBosco, During SSC I joined Ramchandar coaching .

To excel and keep up the tempo, I had to finish up with my coaching after school and then come back home around 8pm everyday. The daily train ride back to Kandiville was roughly 50 minutes. This I spent either downing junk food or catching up on sleep.

During one such journey, I was rudely awakened one day by this gruff male voice...

I opened my eyes to a pair of savage eyes stared back at me. He clapped his hands loudly & announced that I was a sharukh look alike… Aai SSSSharukh.. chal de
huh??? What did this man think I was ?…nuts?..
Then he suggested that I could part with Rs 11/- & good luck would be bestowed on me….
hmmm…I thought…so this is why I look like the tensile towns top hero.

His intimidating presence frightened me a bit since I was 1 of the very few in that compartment that day with this gigantic looking swarthy individual. I realized that he was clad in a sari, receding hair tightly clasped in a tiny knot. I decided that since this individual had chosen to dress like a women, I would call him.… “her”. This was not my first encounter with an eunuch but surely the first one alone at such close quarter.

She kept clapping loudly & demanding that I take heed to her advise & part with the Rs 11/- I summoned up courage to answer that I couldn’t afford such an expensive proposition. I reasoned that I was a student & had to skip my lunch to save up the Rs20/- to buy ciggerttes and cold drink while coming back.
In a meek voice, I requested her that she should accept my 50 paise instead; it was either 50 rupees note or 50Paise in my wallet.

What happened next was most unexpected. She sat opposite me, summing me up & what seemed like an eternity, grinned exposing an awkward set of bad teeth. She introduced herself as Zeenat. I stared astounded at this revelation…Zeenat ???…she defied all norms of being Zeenat..honour of a women.

She was 5 ft 9” broad shouldered, burly & had coarse body hair matting her chest right down to her huge pot belly which protruded offensively as she sat opposite me. She didn’t dress like the regular eunuchs who are known to wear garish makeup, flowers adorning their hair & brightly coloured clothes. Instead she looked like a burly man dressed in a sari.

I quaintly looked at her, relaxed since she had this rather gentle expression on her face as she looked at me. After the initial rapprochement, we got down to first name basis. As Kandiville approached, I parted with my 50P & promised to give her another if I saw her the next day.

There started my first and the only friendship till date with an eunuch....

As I traveled the next evening, there she was again. She grinned broadly as she recognized me, begged outrageous amounts from the other commuters & later came back to chat a bit & collect the measly one rupee I had to offer her.

This became our daily routine & was amused at people gawking at the odd couple we made. Zeenat would caution me to the world of con-men, prostitues & how it was important to be a toughie & not get exploited. Both of us probably got on to a plane where we understood one another.

One day, I asked Zeenat why she begged. Wasn’t it shameful to not work hard & instead earn a living by terrorizing people to part with their money grudgingly. She looked bemused at my outspokenness, pondered on it for sometime then said yes, she would love to take up this suggestion. But then, she would need a job to support herself & could I help her look for one?

This simple question coming from her, jolted me & my romanticism about hard work & earning ones livelihood. I tried to think hard about who I could approach to get Zeenat a decent job. Not one name came up from my mental diary who would dare the world & reach out.

Would any of us dare to give Zeenat a job??? Would Zeenats’ of this world ever be accpeted in our lives???

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Patna University paper - Cow

"The cow is a successful animal. Also he is quadrupud, and because he is female, he give milk,but will do so when he is got child.He is same like God,sacred to Hindus and useful to man.But he has got four legs together. Two are forward and two are afterwards. "His whole body can be utilised for use. More so the milk. What can it do? Various ghee, butter,cream, curd, why and the condensed milk and so forth. Also he is useful to cobbler, watermans and mankind generally. "His motion is slow only because he is of asitudinious species. Also his other motion is much useful to trees, plants as well as making flat cakes in hand and drying in the sun. Cow is the only animal that extricates his feeding after eating. Then afterwards she chew with his teeth whom are situated in the inside of the mouth. He is incessantly in the meadows in the grass. "His only attacking and defending organ is the horn, specially so when he is got child. This is done by knowing his head whereby he causes the weapons to be paralleled to the ground of the earth and instantly proceed with great velocity forwards. "He has got tails also, but not like similar animals. It has hairs on the other end of the other side. This is done to frighten away the flies which alight on his cohoa body whereupon he gives hit with it. The palms of his feet are soft unto the touch. So the grasses head is not crushed. At night time have poses by looking down on the ground and he shouts his eyes like his relatives, the horse does not do so. "This is the cow."


My Big black cat
There's something special about a mother atleast my mother. Though she is not racial she calls me "Negro" or "Natu" because i am shorter than my brother by few inches. I was reminded of this the other day when she visited me in my Engg college hostel. Looking me over in a loving way and speaking as only a mother can, she said, "You're going bald!" "Thanks for bringing that to my attention, Amma," I felt like saying.

"I hadn't yet noticed my bald spot. But now that your eagle eyes have discovered it, I'm going to keep tabs on it. I'm sure you'll lend your assistance by giving me annual how-bald-are-you-now reports."

2003: "Son, you’re so bald, Chotu refer to you as 'grandpa.

'" 2004: "Son, you're so bald, the reflection off your head is blinding people in India."

2005: "Son, you're so bald, Jet has asked for permission to land."

Being a writer herself she knows what to say and the soft spots where it hurts most
What would we do without our mothers? On Mother's Day and other days, we should show our gratitude to them not just because they've loved and supported us, but also for another major reason: If it weren't for our mothers, we wouldn't know all our faults. We'd be deceived into believing we're almost perfect. Yes, we'd be living a lie. Anytime I get too full of myself, I just have to speak to my mother and she'll bring me down to earth faster than a Russian satellite. She'll say something to make me realize that I'm a long way from achieving any goals, especially the ones she has set for me.

Mother: We need mothers partly be cause our spouses and friends have learned to lie to us. You can't blame them. They're concerned about their safety.

Woman: "O ji sunte ho!!, does this dress make me look fat?"
Husband: "No, Jaanu, it makes you look as slim as Cindy Crawford and Jennifer Aniston." (Yes, Cindy and Jennifer combined!)
A mother would be a little more honest:
Daughter: "Mom, does this dress make me look fat?"
Mother: "No, Beti, YOU make the dress look fat. I never thought fabric could stretch like that!"

A kind friend might say, "Wow! That outfit makes you look like a million dollars."
Your mother, on the other hand, will insist on converting it to British currency:
"Wow! That outfit makes you look like a million pounds." Of course, most mothers mean well. They want the best for us. And they know exactly what's best for us, because they spent countless hours thinking about it, even before we were born.

Why won't we listen? Why won't we take advantage of their endless wisdom?

My mother: "You should have become a doctor. You are so intelligent."
Me: "I don't want to be a doctor. I like being a writer."
Mother: "If you had become a doctor, you would have something to write about. And you could have done something about that bald spot. You could have afforded a hair transplant."

Mothers are so wise. You've gotta love them. I certainly love mine.

Char Lineain

Un kee shaadi main tamboo lagaaney chalo
Valimay kee daiGHaiN pakaaney chalo!!

Aur bhi cheezain buhat see lut chuki hain dil key saath
Ye bataya doostoon ne ishq furmaney key baad
Is leay kamray ki ek ek cheez "check" karta hoon main
"Ek tere aane se pehle, ek tere jaane ke baad

Abstract Art ke mulbe se yeh nikli daulat
Jis ko samjhe the anannas woh nikli aurat.

Ek tasveer jo kamal-e-fun thi
Bhains ke jism pe, oont ki gurdan thi

Naqsh-e-mahbood musavvir ne saja rakha hai.
Main yeh samjha ke Tapai pe garha rakha hai.

Is numaish main jo utfal chale aate the.
Dar ke maaon ke seene se lippat jate the.

1. Neend kaysay aaj aaye gi
teen tangain hain chaarpai ki

Main ne naheen kiya tujhe badnam
yeh sharatat hai tere naai ki

Khood na aao to bhaij do qasid
raat katti nahi judai ki

2. Sudharain shaikh kaabe ko hum inglistaan daikhain ge
khuda ka ghar woh daikhain hum khuda ki shan daikhain ge

3. Shaikh ji council ke voter hogaaye
lijiaye chakray say motor hogaaye

Sheikh sahib ke yeh Bebakiyaan dekhiye
Maikade main yeh chalakiyan dekhiye
ek botal to li masjid ke paisoN se
Ek pyala rab ke naam ka pee liya

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

The Dog is dying..

" Not the same dog.... but he also stands witness to human disloyalty"

The beautiful black and white dog, the one with the eyes of a child, is dying. And I am leaving this place.

The beautiful black and white dog, the one you would want to adopt as your own child, if you knew how to—he is dying. He has a hole on the left side of his body, near his heart, a deep wound, a fresh wound. There’s no way he’s going to live for more than two days. And I can’t do a thing about it.

I can’t do a thing about it, because my own life, at present, is a bit of a mess. For some time now, I have been alone and on the move, stumbling on from one dream to the next, making pilgrimages of hope, or flights of escape—escape from the pain of my invisible wounds. No home, no family, no commitments, no set of people anchor me. At this moment in my life, I am not on talking terms with anyone powerful enough even to get something organized for myself, let alone for a dog.

I first made the dog’s acquaintance when I was eating my first meal of the day near Inshara hotel JP Nagar why I went their is another story. His eyes, pleading: and I knew I had to share. Even though I grew up in a hypocritical valued family; imbibing the value that, with so many humans who were starving, you never gave good food to dogs, only the kind you yourself couldn’t eat (bones, leftovers), or the food that was so cheap it didn’t make a difference. I didn’t give him much on the menu, but I did give a major portion of bread which I threw near him. I learned to hold the pieces above his head, waiting for his expectant mouth to soar in the air to catch it as it dropped from my hand. Those eyes: there was nothing I couldnot refuse those eyes, those bottomless pools of sadness and innocence. The only way to live was to avoid those eyes, because if I kept looking into those eyes, I would have to take him home
But I had no home, or a place I can call it lovingly my home and I felt as homeless as the dog. (No, don’t insult me by calling the apartment I rent short-term a home; it’s just a couple of rooms without a bed.) The only kind of home I could take the dog to was a home with a compound, a small garden—not an upper block slept by me with the old grumpy landlord with his equally old grumpy wife infesting the ground floor. Apart from the eyes he was shabby with fleas all over… open wound… cant take him home

True, it’s still a bed and a roof and a couple of rooms, and lots of people don’t have these, and lots of people don’t have a fraction of these. And yet, I can’t live here anymore.
Why? It is many things. For example, that this is located in one of the most wretched parts of the world…India,, oh yes I was a patriot once but it was sucked out in these 23 years living here and though there are many wretched parts in the world these days, this is high on the list. It smells of graveyard and lost hope, especially my room where lot of dreams were made when I was high on drugs and shattered when I wake up from sleep long past noon everyday.
It’s a dog’s life for the people of my type( I still don’t know what type it is) but humans have type, and for the dogs, it’s even worse, it’s a Valley of Tears—because they get beaten, kicked, starved, and run over by automobiles. Except at nights, when the formerly asleep or intimidated dogs awake, become kings of no-man’s-land, and the citizens cower in their houses and apartments, hoping to snatch some sleep. Late night is when the dogs come to life, and summon up enough courage and aggression to fight the Great Dog Wars, and also to conduct the Great Doggie Choral Symphony of Bangalore. Which includes dozens of different doggie yelps, whines, yowls, barks, and nondescript sounds simultaneously blending into a Great Caterwauling River of Noise (music to dog’s ears) that would have forced Zubin Mehta into retirement.

The black and white dog. Sorry, I forgot about my black and white dog, and my life on high chemical road. Just finished my cycling through introspection and was going to take my first bite that’s when the dog came, and saw me, and he was more frightened than ever, starting at even the slightest sounds of approaching motorcycles, and then I noticed the gaping hole in his stomach, and I knew he was gone, knew I had no alternative but to feed him one of his last meals. I gave him my first piece of bread, half-eaten, which he ate gratefully. I was meditating whether to give him a second, when I realized he was gone.

Why can’t I do anything about it? I don’t have a phone number, one on which I can enquire about some Dog Rescue Association, and even if I could summon the energy to go to a phone booth, I have faced tragedies for sometime now, helplessly, mutely, and I know that the tragedy of the dog, simply being part of the huge tapestry of tragedies that is our own life, is one more I’ll have to accept as somehow being part of God’s plan. Of course in a typical movie plot, or even in the plot formula mentioned in Tarzan and Rudyard kipling's book, the failing protagonist would, at a moment like this, be suddenly energized, and in a heroic turn and climax, rescue the dog and win the respect of the viewer or reader. But none of these plots come in terms with real world theme; if they did, the hero would remain paralyzed, even after seeing the dog that MUST be saved. He would overcome his guilt by writing an article just like me today.

So let me speak of my soon-to-be-ex-friend, the dog. Most Indian stray dogs, in this part of India anyway, are brown, shades of brown. They have frightened, shifty, surreptitious, begging eyes, their expressions anxious or sheepish. But their coats are not very appealing. Cosmetically, they occupy the bottom rung of the aesthetic ladder. But this dog had the traces of having, the whites snow-white, the black like polished black marble coat not very long back as the dogs don’t have much life span give or take few years back he was loved pet of someone taken out for walks, on excursion a member of upper middle class family( cause his eyes water when he eats those bread crumbs I gave or so I think );And his eyes: I want to nuke that cliché of corny seduction from my vocabulary, but can’t help using it this time: his eyes are limpid pools, pools you can get lost in.

Sitting here at office or call my peaceful graveyard where I am bugged only by scattered few Americans who have no better way of killing their time but to make toll free calls in the middle of the night, I am already preparing his obituary: He was a Sensitive Dog, a dog for the ages. He was unlike the other dogs, who spend their time gossiping in Pizza hut, Barista or dancing their stregthn out in TYKA or just watching the Ten Sports Channel. But he wasn't cut out for the life of the streets, he wasn't made for this cruel world. He needed an owner to take him in, to love him, to love in return. And when finally, he woke up to the evil that lives in the hearts of men--and in the hearts of bad dogs--his innocence was finally shattered, and he couldn't take it. It broke his heart. I saw it in his eyes, the last time I saw, the look of shattered innocence and pure terror. It was this invisible wound, rather than the circular physical wound, about one inch deep, that killed him."

The beautiful black and white dog, the one with the eyes of a child, is dying. And I am wishing farewell to all my dreams.
B bye, ex-dog. See you in Heaven, maybe pretty soon?

[P.S. I have great doubts about publishing this, yet, why do I decide to go ahead? Because though readers can wait, me and the dog cant. I have this secret, totally improbable fantasy that somehow someone, somewhere, will at the last moment save this dog . . . and then, once it is healthy, give it to me: by which time I will indeed have a house with a small compound and garden a lucrative job, loving woman and parent. Is it true when we say it’s a dog life that we all live and dream

My First trip -------------------------

Dear Jammu & Avis Bhaia,

Dear brother, greetings to respectful parents. I am hoping all is well with health and wealth. I am fine at my end. Hoping your end is fine too. With Allah Mian's grace and parents' dua’s I am arriving safely in UK and finding my way to the Guest house. Had some difficulty because the driver was holding Mr Hussain instead of Ashraf or Imran. Kindly assure mother that I am strictly consuming vegetarian food only in restaurants though I do not know if cooks are muslims. I hope parents' duas are residing with me. Brother, I am having so many things to tell you that I am not knowing where to start.

Most surprising thing about Britain is it is full of British. Everywhere Britishers, Britishers, big and white, it is little frightening. The flight from Bombay to London is arriving safely thanks to Allah Mian's grace and Parents' duas and mine too. I am not able to go to bathroom whole time because I am sitting in corner seat as per revered grandmother's wish. One more desi bhai is rightly scolding that airplane is flying too high to have good view.

But, brother, in next two seats are sitting two old gentle ladies and if I am getting up then they are put in lot of botheration so I am not getting up for except when plane is in middle of sky no one can take my seat then because people are counted.

Many foods are being served in carts but I am only eating cashew nuts and bread because I am not knowing what is food and what is pig meat. I am having a good time drinking 37 glasses of Coca-Cola. They are rolling down a screen and showing a film but I am not listening because air hostess ladies are selling head phones for 1 Pounds which is Rs.60 and in our beloved Talab Tillu town we can sit in balcony seats in Regal Talkies for only Rs.3. I am asking lady if they are giving student discount but she is too busy. I am also asking her for more Coca-Cola but she is looking like she is weeping and walking away. I think perhaps she is not understanding proper English.

Then I am sleeping long time after India leaving, and plane over clouds and when I am waking it is like we are flying over sea of lights. Everywhere, brother, as far as I am seeing there are lights lights. It is like God has made carpet of lights. Then we are landing in London and plane is going right upto door so that we are not having to walk in cold. I must say British are very advanced. And as I am leaving aeroplane, air hostess is giving me one more can of Coca-Cola. Her two friends are also with her, but why they are laughing so much I do not know. I think these Britishers are strange but good people in their hearts. I hope she was not laughing for racial. Perhaps she was feeling shy earlier even I was feeling shy earlier.

Then I am going to long bathroom. As I am leaving I am making first friend in Britain. This is Negro gentleman named Joe who is standing at door and as I am opening it he is holding out hand so I am shaking it and telling him my name and he is tellng me his. I am telling him if he is ever coming to Talaab Tillu Zilla Baramullah he can ask for Uglele layout behind Dhobhi ghat. If I have not returned from London please tell Baba that if negro gentleman named Joe is visiting Talab tillu he may kindly do needful. Don’t worry you can find him, he is blacker than Kali baba when he come to our place he will be blackest in Talab tillu.

In this way I feel each and every one of us is serving as Ambassador of our beloved Motherland. Joe is doubtful I feel because he says "Far out, man, far out", but I am reassuring him that India is only 9 hours away by plane and that is not very far. I think he is accepting this because he is not saying anything any more.

Next I go to place marked " Baggage" as Arpita behenji has advised and suddenly place I am sitting starts to move throwing me. It is like python we once saw in forest, only rattling and with luggage bouncing on its back and sometimes leaping to attack passengers. I am also throwing myself on bag before it is escaping. I think if I am not wrestling it down it would revert to plane and back home to India. I am only joking of course.

Before this I am meeting very friendly gentleman at Immigration desk. I do not know why all relatives had warned against this man, bacause he is so friendly. He is talking English strangely but is having kind heart because he is asking me about nuts and I am saying that I am liking very much and eating many on plane. "Totally, totally nutss," he is saying, which I feel British expression for someone fond of cashewnuts. Before this he is showing friendliness by asking "How is it going?" I am telling his fully and frankly about all problems and hopes, even though you may feel that as britisher he may be too selfish to bother about decline in price of hair oil in Talab Tillu town. But, brother, he is listening very quietely with eyes on me for ten minutes and then we are having friendly talk about nuts and he is wanting me to go.

At Customs, brother, I am getting big shock. One fat man is grunting at me and looking cleverly from small eyes. "First visit?" he is asking, "Local here, born and growing in london" I am saying (don’t want him to cheat me if he is a rickshaw driver.) "Move on," he is saying making chalk marks on bags. As I am picking up bags he is looking directly at me and saying "Watch your ass." Now, brother, this is wonderful. How he is knowing we are dhobi by profession in Talab tillu? I think they are knowing everything about everybody who is coming to British mainly of all muslims. They are not allowing anybody without knowing his family and financial status and other things. And we are only buying donkey two days before my departure. I think they are keeping all information in computers. Really these Britishers are too advanced they already got my photo!!!. But, brother, now I am worrying. Supposing this is US army keeping watch or else how they can know about our country all of them are very white or very black so you cant seperate britishers and amricans?

Anyway please do not tell Mother and Father or they are worrying, but lock all doors and windows. If CIA wants to recruit me to be spy in talab tillu, I will gladly take poison before betraying our Motherland and muslim mohallah. Then I am going out and cousins are waiting and receiving me warmly. I will write soon after taking bath.
Your brother,

Bottled Heights

At times we ought to reach even the point of intoxication, not drowning ourselves in drink, yet succumbing to it; for it washes away troubles, and stirs the mind from its very depths and heals its sorrow just as it does certain ills of the body; and the inventor of Corex is not called the Releaser on account of the license it gives to the tongue, but because it frees the mind from bondage to cares and emancipates it and gives it new life and makes it bolder in all that it attempts. But, as in freedom, so in Corex there is a wholesome moderation unlike alcohol where it’s only a loose tongue and bad smell in mouth we receive.

Yet we ought not to do this often, for fear that the mind may contract an evil habit; nevertheless there are times when it must be drawn into rejoicing and freedom, and gloomy sobriety must be banished for a while.

Cuppi…go get it

Guys should be Gay

I stumbled upon an interesting observation by Jey Leno from late night show he had “come to the conclusion that if everyone was just a little bit more gay, the world would work a lot smoother”.

He laments that guys are reckless and disorderly in their demeanor. They do not care to maintain personal hygiene, nor do they dress neatly (which is considered to be a gay-ish trait). And they smell like ass all day, don’t they! This kind of uncouth and unkempt behavior of guys (as a sub-species!) has been very eloquently portrayed as the basic trait of guys of the world in the funny best seller Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys. Barry defines guys like this:-
My point is that guys are not merely shallow, childish, irresponsible, unreliable, slovenly, sports-crazed, sex-obsessed, crotch-scratching boors. They are all these things, but they are not merely these things. …….

So if you are a woman, and you find yourself getting irritated at the guy in your life because he has a few petty guy foibles such as a tendency to blow his nose on the curtains, or burp and fart in public… remember that, if some kind of crisis were to arise, the very same so-called worthless guy is fully capable of sizing up the situation in a calm and coolheaded manner and that too without regard to his own personal safety –
going out for a bottle of Cuppi for that….

Susmit Rai narrates it on phone from Delhi

Most of you would have heard about ghosts but not many of you have ever met or seen a ghost. I know a one of Susmit's friend who has recently met with a ghost of beautiful young girl who has died a year ago. The story goes like this:-

One rainy night my friend was walking along the railway track wearing a raincoat. He was all alone and it was around midnight. The visibility was poor. The sky was dark and the rain was pouring non stop. Suddenly he saw a shadow of a young girl walking along the railway track fully drenched. He became very curious and tried to go closer to her and talk to her and even help her. When he approached her he saw her face from very near and found to his surprise that she was a beautiful young girl. He offered her his raincoat, she accepted. He asked her about her house or where she wanted to go. She told that she lives close by in the railway quarters and she gave him the quarter's number and name of her father. Then she accepted his raincoat and vanished in the rains.

The next day my friend went to take back his raincoat and he was also interested in her. When he went to the given address he found her old father and mother. He told them about the rainy night story and also advised them not to send a young girl alone in the nights. Both her parents were aghast. They started crying. They told him that girl has died exactly a year ago in a rail accident while crossing the track. He couldn’t believe this. Then they showed him, her garlanded picture and took him to a nearby graveyard. There what he saw was shocking. His raincoat was neatly kept on the girl's grave and he noticed the name and date of her death written on the slab.

We all laugh at his hunters’ story... But I believe that there are souls with unfulfilled desires roaming in the darkness. Do you believe in GHOSTS?

Love Vs Sex

We all know this debate. Its been around for eons, and we all know the whats and whys.

Women BELIEVE sex without love is not possible, or at least not enjoyable.
Men ACT LIKE love without sex is not possible, or at least not desirable.

Women seek love. And to get to that goal may accept a little of sex.
Men seek sex, and to get to that goal may act like they are in love.

Right? Wrong!

The real answer is maybe somewhere in between.

If you are making love with someone, it must be because you at least like her.
If you are loving a person, you must feel like touching him/her physically.

I dont know whether platonic love exists. But even in situations where there is no sex, there exists physical intimacy.
Like for example the relation between a parent and his/her child. Its the most beautiful relationship in the world, you will all agree. But even that is not 'platonic'. A parent needs to cuddle, a child needs to feel touch.

So, whither platonic love?
Or, whither loveless sex?

So I say........"Carry on all ye out there madly in love, or madly making love"

The glory of being a virgin

Are you a virgin? Out of the blue she popped up the question. It took me two minutes before recovering and coming up with an answer in affirmative. I could view a suppressed smile on her face. What if I would have replied in negative? May be she would have thought that I am a demeaning character and loved to kick my rear side.

Virginity is directly proportional to character, if not all most of people are in sync with this thought. I know lot of my female friends who are proud to be a virgin; it’s like a treasure to them which they want to bestow upon their future hubbies. Phew only if they know that their dream merchants are in any case too desperate to lose this fortune!

Unlike their counterparts males don’t want to live with virginity glory for long (no shaadi key baad for them), it’s sucking for them to live with a virgin tag. But God knows how keen are they to marry a bride who has an intact hymen; often discussing ways to come with a sure shot way of discovering virginity (I guess these people can be awesome anchors on discovery channel). Not being modest most of us males to be precise are virgin not by choice... who don’t love sinning if its so pleasurable

I often wonder why virginity is such an obsession with both males and females. We leash our urges to safeguard this so called asset so that in future we could prevent embarrassing moments (all those paapi, neech kind of jingles). Afterall, what virginity has to do with character? Take a simple case, when we feel hungry, we have our supper. Do we wait for some auspicious time or for some partner? Similarly, why can’t we take physical intimacy like that? Like hunger, sex is a drive humans can’t suppress. Maybe it’s something to do with the way sex is...Man will boast about his sexual escapades but a girl will always hide it.

What humbug! Instead of vying for a virgin soul mate better enjoy Virgin Mary mocktail.

She was "My72-year-old girlfriend!”

I know it’s bizarre but it’s true. I am 25-year-old man now once madly in love with a 65year-old woman. Her hair have turned grey and she has drought cracks on her face but still she is the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Just a glimpse of her divine face brings a smile on my lips. She is a fairy, an angel.

It started long time back, may be ages back. I don’t remember when the first time I saw her but each time I meet her, I feel like I am meeting her for the first time. Like peels of an onion she has so many facets to her personality. Whenever we communicate she has vivid experiences and stories to narrate which are more interesting than a suspense thriller movie. Everything she reveals has intricate details and color; she can easily be a great story-teller or a Bollywood movie maker. We were partners in crime me telling her all the secrets which my mother shared with other wives of my uncles and she letting me know how stupid they all were when they married her sons.

Like many other males, I always dreamt of a woman who is just not plain looks but intelligent and mature too. My lady is a healthy mixture of these attributes. After all, how many females on this planet have good looks and good brains? Few is the answer and therefore, I am the blessed one.

Even when we have a sea difference in our ages, it doesn’t stop us confining our secrets with each other. The good part of it is that she is never jealous of all the other girl friend I had, and she was always a matchmaker for me right from my kindergarten days when my parents used to ask me what I learnt she used to ask whom I wooed today... in fact she provided me with some amazing tips to woo girls which are still religiously implemented by me.
Our relationship is not just confined to healthy discussion and mutual respect but like other couples we do shared physical intimacy at times. I still crack my fingers on my head as she used to do with me reminding me of her omni presence in my life... The best kiss I had ever was bestowed on me by her on my forehead. Let me tell you she is an amazing kisser who can give Angelina Jolie a run for her money. Thinking now my grand father was a lucky guy...
The only fear I have about our relationship is the fact that she is never had a good health from my earliest memory of hers. I wish that she was still alive after all who wants to lose a companion. Few days from now it will be her Barsi(death anniversary). I want to wish her that I am still always hers before my family… even my mother.

God bless you darling. My dearest old girl, I want to assure you that I will always love you.

I wish that I can marry someone who is just like you. Love you DadiJaan.

(Un)Conditional Love

Every relationship is built on some kind of love, Love for love or love for hate. I am here talking of relationships which are part of love, as in love for love. We are born in a family; parents take responsibility of our upbringing. Provide us best of environment to grow, educate us and try to make us a responsible citizen. One who can take on the responsibility of the family later on. Is this the expectation which our parents have from us when they provide us the best of life? I think not, it must be that, being part of family they must give us the best they can. And when they reach a situation where they need care, we take over their responsibility. So does it become necessary for the parents to remind the child of his duties, or the children themselves understand the responsibilities.

I feel now a days, the children are more mature than their age and very practical too. So they know what is expected out of them but still behave in weird ways with their parents. But does by providing education and upbringing, give parents complete control over the children's life. Aren’t the children supposed to have their own thought process and way of life? So if a child wants to live life as they want then parents shouldn't be objecting.

Coz all their expectations are their own and not the child's.

Same goes with friends, who claim that they will do anything for a friend. But putting it practically, is something like this possible?? What is the maximum one can do for a friend; lay down one's life is what I feel. There is no better sacrifice than giving up on life for a friend, but such act should make a difference to the situation and not just for doing it. With friend's, expectations too follow, we seek material things from them or things like companionship, comfort etc. Now does this all mean that I am a loner and for the fear of expectations from friends and family run away from them, maybe it is true to some extent but not fully true coz I know that I have my responsibilities towards them but fulfilling expectations as per their wish, how correct is it ?

What am I talking about???

Peeping again - This time 7

7 things I plan to do before I die:
Read & write

7 things I can do:

7 things I cannot do:
Wash clothes
Cook nonveg

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
Facial expression
Dressing sense
Movement of hands and body

7 things I say most often:
kaisen Ba (kaise ho)
Kuch Bhi
Come again
Pretty good Pretty good… Not bad Not bad

7 celebrity crushes:
Chris Halder… she is a celebrity alright
Julia Roberts
Catherine Zeta Jones
Meg Ryan Aww she is cute
Aishwarya (she got to be here)
Michelle Phfifer
Shakira (check the way she shakes her booty with an innocent face)

Sometimes I feel like the biggest idiot on earth.
At other times, I just know.

Peeping into my life -

Total number of films I own on dvd/video:

At present 10!!! Although I don’t believe in watching these bade bade kalakar on small screen. One day, when I am going to meet all of them, they mustn’t complain, “Honey you shrunk me!” I believe in watching them on larger than life screen!

The last film I bought:
I will buy films, when I will own my own multiplex! Right now I do with Piracy!!

The last film I watched:
“Life is beautiful” awesome view if you have a taste for life

Avis, Jammu, Deepa, Payel at present my future resides in my present


Ash, Ashraf, Immi, Imran… make it four buddy

My brain, My fingers, My mouth

My skin, my outlook, my hair (I am Baloo from jungle book)

My brother, my mother, my father.

Losing my near and dear ones
Getting some serious illness
Dieing a virgin

Cigarettes, Cuppi!!!, chatting with family and friends!

Fun, domination from my side, everyone should understand me.

Get up early in the morning.
Trying to feel as healthier as I can!
To walk endlessly till I get tired of it.

Ticket Checker
Join newspaper weekly whatever is left of them

My hometown
My hostel room (it should be allotted to me whenever I want or feel the urge)
Go back to my childhood days, then every day was a vacation.

Want to learn the art of eating with chopsticks.
Want to see at least ONE politician punished for his/her wrongdoing.
Ensure someone misses me badly after I am gone

In the dehradun backyards

I never had the pleasure of seeing leechi! It grew on its own in my sister’s backyard. I remember, I used to bug my cousin sister about how the fruit was performing, how it was looking, how was its size and color! I really envied her for having this beautiful fruit plant... dozens of them in their back yard. She had the pleasure of tending it, watering it, watching its everyday progress.

Hope, someday I will have my own patch of land where I can grow my own fruits and vegetables, without having the fear of what is in my plate and how much fertilizers and pesticides it contain.
And I might have a nice shady tree, under which I can read my favorite books, sipping tea prepared by someone else! Having loads of wills puffs

Right now these seem sweet and distant dreams.

Loose Tongue

I thought of thousand words,
But could pen down only few,
I know I am speechless,
But it is because of you.

Hey don't draw up conclusions based on my lines; these are some random thoughts that occurred to me. There is no relation between these and the beautiful girls my eyes gift me ofcourse they never give a second thought to a Casanova like me.

The woman

Are some people just meant to be in our lives, to play a part, even after we think we have lost them or have forgotten them? What is the role of accidental meetings, coincidental phone calls (the ones that go Hi!! oops, I’m sorry, I mistakenly dialed the wrong number...take cares), coincidental mass emails sent by mistake to an address which still lies in your address book which you’ve never been able to delete, because you just couldn’t. Why is it that these people keep coming in and going out of your lives? What is the Universe trying to tell us? That we should stay in touch. We should get back together. What?

I had a meeting like that. I had a meeting like that after 10 years with someone who had been my everything once thanks to my grandmother who played a match maker for us. It was as if the Universe wanted to test the limits of my endurance, thus played that trick. Why does man think he can conquer the world, when he crumbles so easily in front of a single card being dealt?
She was on the arms of an old known from Dehradun.

Now the reader would be saying "Grow up. It was 10 years ago" and I will tell my reader. "You are right, you are so right". 10 years is a long time to think that you’re finally over someone. That you’ve moved on. That you’re finally over those rushes of heady emotions that landed you in trouble the first time. That you know you’re more mature, more stable, know what you want out of life. But you know what really defies your own reality. It’s that email address you never deleted. It’s that stuffed toy that you got on your first date that somehow is still kept in your room. It’s those diary entries about her that still get read occasionally (of course you were just laughing at how stupid you’ve been. Nothing more). It’s those pictures that you still have of her (you keep them still because they will teach you the meaning of a true relationship and make you a more learned person)....and when you saw her once in the avoided making eye contact. That was only because you didn’t want her to be hurt of course. or remember you...but then she’s probably forgotten all about you TOO....

What a tangled web we weave, when we first practice to deceive…

I saw him bring her over to me. At that moment perhaps I would have traded everything I owned to avoid that meeting....or perhaps to be the person on whose arms she was on. Our eyes met and except for a slight flicker of recognition, she didn’t show any emotion at all. I too was calm on the surface, but was as if at that moment a hundred volcanoes had decided to explode together and were spewing their hot lava everywhere.

He introduced us. Not knowing that I already knew more about her than he could ever find out in a generation. There’s something about finding a soul mate. You just know what the other person is. You never have to explain yourself or even tell another about you. You just know. I looked at her and she never had to tell me what she had done in all those years. I could feel her pain, her joys, her essence....I just knew...and I knew that she knew everything about me too. After sometime I just excused myself and left.

It’s amazing the way some people are a part of your life. How they just happen to pop in at intervals decided by the Universe. It’s ironic because it’s the same universe that conspired to take those same people away from you, once. I don’t know why though.

I’m reading my diary right now and I’ve written "She’s Perfect" Just like the one who chose her for me.

Just a thought

Two days back someone asked me was it Lust or Love with Chris?

Lets see :-

A man goes to the window to see the passers by.
If I happen to pass by, can I say that he has gone there to see me?
No; for he is not thinking of me in particular.
But does he who loves someone for her beauty, really love her?
No; for small-pox, destroying the beauty without destroying the person, will put an end to love.
And if I am loved for my judgment, for my memory, am I loved?
No; for I can lose these qualities without losing myself.
Where then is this ‘I,’ if it resides neither in the body, nor the soul? And how love the body or the soul; save for these qualities which do not make the ‘me,’ since they are doomed to perish? For can one love the soul of a person in the abstract, irrespective of its qualities? Impossible and wrong! So we never love anyone, but only qualities.

When I love a person, is it the person in her particularity and uniqueness that I love, or merely the being-instantiated of certain lovable properties?
Do I love Chris as Chris, or merely as an instance of helpfulness, friendliness, faithfulness with Mixture of loads of sex appeal?

Debate continues… even after her marriage with some prince frog from wonderland

The haunting continues . . .

Well, I could go on and on, on how much my friends help me forget my old crushes by keeping me updated with news about them, but there are more things which make me think about all those girls I used to like once upon a time, or I still like them, don’t know really! I am incapable of hating people without any reason if liked them once without any reason... Dreams, dreams allow a person to experience things one wants or wishes to happen to happen to him, or more likely will never happen or are impossible (that word must be in everyone’s dictionary, for the sake of the much needed positive pessimism in everyone’s life).Yeah those same dreams which manage to scare the hell out of you some times, and so are called bad dreams, but I still don’t know why they are called “nightmares”. I have never had mares or for that matter horses in my night dreams or even my day dreams (yeah I have lots of them too)! It really dawns on you that you are a loser, when you have a dream or dreams(in my case) where the girl, whom you once wished to be with, a long time ago, appears or keeps on reappearing. Now this would have been a very blissful scenario had it been that the girl was on talking terms with you or was seen by you every day. You could have gone up to that girl and narrate her your dream, and get her all thinking, is he a weirdo (most of the time!) or, does he really like me? (Chances are good if the girl is a hopeless romantic) In that case you might be getting somewhere, or might even succeed in get her interested in you, or even succeed in wooing her completely(again, in the case of a hopeless romantic).But the scenario is different, when a considerable amount of time has passed since you failed to woo her (in my case all my fault!), and you are still a loser when it comes to girls, with whom you had a good chance, it’s the worst thing that can happen to you! Now you can’t blame your friends for reminding you of that girl, because it’s your own delusional brain, which is still high on love dope, which is causing you the entire trauma. You think, what in the name of Don Juan (de Marco, the guy who got all the chicks he ever wanted!) is happening with me!

Am I so lovesick, that due to the lack of a proper or even an improper (would be fine in my case, anything goes...) love life, has caused my brain to have such wonderful mirages, which remind me of my bad luck, of all the fun I could I have had with that girl, of all the love which would have been due to me, of all the things which would have transformed me from an atheist to an ardent follower of all religions (is that possible? yeah more than my getting the love of my dreams!).In those dreams (I think this is totally in my case!), I see that girl, alone with me, totally smitten to me, doing all those things …and we are having a rocking time. Got the picture?

Start of my pain!

Being woken up by somebody from one of those dreams, is like God (you wish his presence, but know he’s not there, anyone who gives anyone a reality check) showing me how he has not gifted me with any love life!
Reality bites? Certainly does, and bites real hard…..
You wake with a start,(That is if you remember the dream at all when you wake up, which will probably be because the dream might not have been a morning dream, that is might have come in the middle of your sleeping hours, so the memory of it, is not immediate when you wake up. The memory of the dream may return to you sometime afterwards in the day, or may fail to do so completely.) Thinking, aha, what was that, wow, and then it dawns, hey, what the fuck? What the heaven was that? Damn it, I am such a loser. The girl whom you tried to forget, and it took months of self realization, the girl whose face, you thought was erased from your memory, just reappears out of the sick brain and here I am thinking about her in the morning, And this is so going to carry on for the rest of the day, you wish, for days, probably.

And does the pain return, you bet it does, without a return ticket! The problem is that you start thinking about her and all those stupid things; you did when you were in lala-land, when you were high on love dope. You think about things like, does she remember me? (Duh huh!), does she still like me? (You wish), does she have dreams about me? (Even LSD will fail to excite a person to think like this…), do I still have a chance…No, no chance at all……….now you are gone for good, gone from the fields of sanity to the dungeons of preposterous ideas, O yes, I have lost it, totally. If wishes were cupids, losers would find all the love, definitely.

You wake up, from sleep, the dopes still on, try to think sanely, fail to do so, and keep on trying… Well it has to wear out sooner or later when you remember the definition of a dream, how it is at the disposal of the mind to hallucinate oneself, to have some consolation when you sleep, to give you some fun, to cheer you up, to help you picture things you might fail to do in your entire life, to simulate the impossible, yes that’s what dreams are meant to be. They act as a placebo to the people who are mad about things they can’t acquire, or experience. They are for the good of all the losers. It’s like virtual reality, only this one’s free, but will be seen only by the select few, the lucky lot, the lucky lot of the unlucky ones. I haven’t heard a person of dreaming of things he already has or a person dreaming of things he has done a dozen times already. It’s like the poor man’s liquor, gives you’re the high (you may go too high), but also gives you the worst hangovers. And dreams involving lost love or in my case love never found have the worst hangovers, heaven when asleep and hell when awake. After some time you get used to these kinds of dreams, if you are lucky or unlucky enough to have them in the first place! Sometimes, you even look forward to meeting that girl again, like on a virtual date, you wish! The moment you start wishing for a particular dream, thud, your mind drops the idea all of a sudden and all the dreams you are get, are the routine ones, the ones in which you get killed in the battlefield, get chased by a ghost and stuff like that(all of these are in my case.) It’s like your brains your own enemy, and in a way it helps you to move on and not get carried away by intangible thoughts, to more practical things, like ‘life’s a bitch’ and ‘shit happens’, like all the normal people. Dreams which feature your “love lost” are in some ways essential, as in they help you in getting some of the things done, which otherwise you could not have ever experienced, because dreams are as good as real life, the only difference is that there is no record of the things which happened in your dreams anywhere, other than your brain, which also forgets it after some hours, and that there are no repercussions of your behavior in your dreams.
This way dreams are better than real life, but the only thing is that they are experienced or viewed by a select audience and this audience may have dreams through out their life. Obviously you have to wait for a good dream to come, and have to sit through all those bad dreams. Hey come now, you can’t complain, after all how much more can a loser ask for!

P.S: The night after I wrote this chapter, I had a dream (Some coincidence!) in which I was playing a bridegroom going to marry an unknown woman in arranged marriage... boy oh boy!!!

Old Crushes keep haunting . . . . . . .

There are times in everyone’s life when you like someone very much, but you just can’t hit it off the way you wanted, after you’ve met her for the first time.

It’s like you have introduced yourself to her once, but just can't get through the initial fear of talking freely with her, when you meet her again for the second time or in my case the third and the fourth. And from then onwards it’s just the smile and the “Hi”. That's the best you can do. Then you feel this person is unlike the ordinary girls you meet up with, whom you talk to very freely and hit it off well. You feel this person is special, or even more, like in my case you feel you are in love with her and so you have a hard time talking freely with that person. It’s like when she is around you heart misses a beat and you glance at her and when she glances back at you, all you manage is a sheepish smile and pretend to look away (in my case at my watch or shoes or the computer screen). At least that's what's has happened with me a lot of times.

It’s very frustrating because you want to talk to her and get to know the person well, but you get the creeps the minute you see her. Again it’s in my case at least.

And because u don't talk to her or fail to do so, you keep thinking about her and that's what drives you crazy and the enigma of the person increases. It’s like what’s with me and this girl. Why can’t I talk to her? Does she like me or not? Well that question probably never gets answered. After some time, after you are too chicken to talk to her, after “I am going to talk to her this time” promises to yourself, the “HI’s” you used to get from her, dry up and the smiles are the next casualty. As time passes, when you pass her it’s like you are back to square one and it seems that we don't even know each other. End of story.... probably. And if this entire episode has been witnessed by your friends, then.... start of a new story. You are a dead man, might not be, but you certainly are a loser. Your friends are convinced that she and you are made for each other and the word spreads. And every time she approaches, there are whispers, or even shouts (in my case) “there comes your maal “. And now you ought to know by now that this girl has been tagged.” Tagging” is the act of linking a person with another, even if the boy has talked with the girl once or twice, and that's it. The girl’s name will be linked with you every time any of you friend sees her, even if she’s married, and has two kids. She is still going to be your girl. And you can’t do a damn about it. Its been months since you have blown away your chances with this girl and a many more, with whom you once dreamed of being with, but ever time she passes, some one or the other is gonna pass a comment or call your name loudly to get the girl's attention towards you, or worst (my case), call the girl's name with your name. It’s like a song they make up about you and her, yeah those bastards; who are your friends. And then you think that you are better off with your foes. The girl by the time must have made a strange image of you in her mind, chicken, asshole, sissy etc.

She must be thinking, what went wrong? He was supposed to be a nice guy and now he doesn't even talk to me and his friends are playing cupid! All you are left with is the sweet memories of her and Of course, your friends. You are at a stage where you are trying to forget this girl and get on with your life but every time she’s approaching, you get reports like, “she's coming”,” she was looking at you” , ” did you see her smile “, yes indeed she was smiling, no, laughing at me and my stupid friends. “Well thanks guys!” you say, when she starts to avoid even passing next to you or your stupid posse. But friends will still refer to her as “your girl” and will never let you forget her completely in my case Even when you have graduated or years have passed, news about her trickles down to you, “She topped her class”, “She’s going abroad”,”She’s got a car “, “She’s earning loads of money” thanks guys, for your loyalty and your Intel. It’s like 3 years and they still manage to get some news about her to me. Great guys! Who’s your source, definitely not the CIA, after 9/11! After all that time I was trying to forget her and so many girls after her, I still manage to know how she’s faring.
That gets me thinking about her and I start digging in, to get more info, and just to act casual, say things like “good for her” trying not to attract suspicion, that I do miss her.
Guys, will you give me a break from your reporting, not just about her but about all the girls who I am trying to forget.

Thanks guys! What did u say? She’s coming back… When yaar?

We are Indian brothers if …

  • Your mother is so modern and understanding that you won’t ever let your current modern heart throb know that this particular woman is your mother.
  • Your dad is some sort of engineer or doctor or a government employee who took atleats 15years of service to buy a 2nd hand maruti car.
  • Your parents tried to get you into places half-price saying you were 12 when you were really 15.
  • You ask your parents help on one math problem and 2 hours later they're still lecturing.
  • You have a 40kgs bag of rice in your kitchen.
  • The more aged your relatives are more badly the fart in the public
  • You’ve had a bowl haircut at one point in your life.
  • Your parents enjoy comparing you to their friends' kids or your cousins doing wonders abroad.
  • You’ve learned to keep bargaining even if the prices are rock bottom.
  • you know what's going to happen in every Hindi movie before it happens
  • You’ve never got those little red envelopes around February and if you got it, its still there intact after 12 years.
  • Piles of shoes tend to make it hard to open the front, back doors.
  • Your father and grandfathers have hair on their ears
  • Idiot people try to impress you with pathetic imitation of foreign languages
  • At least one family member wears black wire/plastic frame glasses
  • your relatives' houses smell like incense, mothballs or both
  • You like Rs75/- like Rs25/- movies even more.
  • Your parents insist you marry within your Caste.
  • You either really, really want to go to USA or really, really want to stay away from it
  • Your parents have never kissed you nor have you ever seen them kissing each other
  • Your mothers world is centered around "Kanta Bai" and watching "Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi"
  • Your dad wears a torn vest
  • You paint your Outer boundary with gods so that no one urinates on your wall
  • Teen age sex is the word you heard when you were in your 20's
  • "You want a stereo!" When I was your age, I didn't even have shoes!!" that’s the reply you get from your father
  • Atleast one person you know in your family who studied under street lights and came up in life
  • You have to call just about all your parent's friends "Auntie and Uncle."
  • You have 12+ aunts and uncles from both your mother's and your father's side
  • At expensive restaurants, you order a delicious glass of water for your beverage and NEVER order dessert never ever feeling comfortable till you are out under sun.
  • Your parents simply cut the rotten part off the fruit and serve it on the table
  • The vast majority of the people related to you wear glasses. Thick glasses.
  • You get nothing if you do well in school, but crapped on if you don't
  • Your family owns a tennis racquet and you feel you are modern within your friend circle.
  • You will most likely be taller than your parents.
  • The furniture in your house never matches the wallpaper, the carpet, the decorations or any of the rest of the furniture.
  • Do whatever your father will always find you lesser student than him
  • Your parents bought you clothes and shoes many sizes too big so you can "grow into it" and wear it for years to come."
  • Your dad’s scooter never starts before you kick it for 30 times and bend it to 15 degrees.
  • in your workplace when foreign delegates visit your office you turn the world upside down to please them

Empty thoughts...Love Vs Sex

We all know this debate. It’s been around for eons, and we all know the whats and whys.
Women BELIEVE sex without love is not possible, or at least not enjoyable.
Men ACT LIKE love without sex is not possible, or at least not desirable.
Women seek love. And to get to that goal may accept a little of sex.
Men seek sex, and to get to that goal may act like they are in love.

Right? Wrong!

The real answer is maybe somewhere in between.
If you are making love with someone, it must be because you at least like her.
If you are loving a person, you must feel like touching him/her physically.
I don’t know whether platonic love exists. But even in situations where there is no sex, there exists physical intimacy.
Like for example the relation between a parent and his/her child. It’s the most beautiful relationship in the world, you will all agree. But even that is not 'platonic'. A parent needs to cuddle, a child needs to feel touch.

So, whither platonic love?
Or, whither loveless sex?

Secrets of Corporate Business Revealed: How to handle clients?

After gaining enough experience in this industry (Boy 25 months are more than enough), I don’t fear penning down my 9 commandments which I religiously follow everyday I enter my office.Clients are like GOD in our sweet industry. No wonder, people have gone to the extreme of keeping clients photograph on there desktop, worshipping them before starting day’s activity and things like that. They play a very important role and your future (& your appraisal, salary, perks, etc.) depends on how much business they give it to you.

Then how to deal with them Z000n, I hear you ask.

Just follow 9 simple commandments given below, you will be running up the ladders (Might even land into your clients office if you’re fast climber)

  • Thou shall always respect your client and treat him as GOD. International clients are never visible when you deal with them. You only hear there voice (and shouts) on your phone. GOD is also not visible, but you know HE is somewhere around.
  • Thou shall never get “emotionally” attached to your client while working for him. I remember while dealing with an UK client, he introduced me to his family, his grand mom his dog, his parrot, I ended up being a tourist guide to his in-laws visiting India.
  • Thou shall never let your clients know about their nicknames. I used to call one of my client “Tharki Baniya” he came to know about his name... and then he was never a client any more.
  • Thou shall use your clients snap as wallpaper. This will act as a booster to work hard or get screwed from “human species” seen on that wallpaper.
  • Thou shall accept whatever your client says about yourself. You are dumb; if this is what your client says, accept it. Client knows better than what you really think of you
  • Thou shall never sleep with anyone from the client’s side. Never do this I did it more than once during my early days you talk with them U dream about how they look you end up sleeping with them Cause its America and Legal. You’ll get screwed up from four sides at a time – office, client, home, girl friend.
  • Thou shall treat your client with equal respect even when not involved in face-to-face communication. Old associate informs me" Ashraf when we used to have telephonic conference call with our Japanese client, we used to BOW (Japanese ishtyle) in front of the telephone as soon as we hear the voice from other side". This is called giving “equal respect”. Hindi-Japani bhai-bhai!!
  • Thou shall always keep on bouncing Q’s related to project at hand, to make them believe that for 24hrs only WORK is on your mind. It doesn’t matter if you play Age of Empire game or doing exactly what I am doing now when you’re actually suppose to work.
  • Thou shall never cry in front of client for salary raise. Stop acting like a cheapo at least in front of your client. I’ve seen people actually doing this. Sir I work in grave yard shift and they pay me pea nuts ... 7 mouths to feed...mothers eye operation... to bail out my father from jail.. etc...etc.

Friday, May 25, 2007


If you are a typical, single, Indian man who is living with friends and inhouse fun in B'lore working late nights, the time will come when it will dawn on you that the only chance you have to indulge in wedded bliss lies in the hallowed institution of the "Arranged Marriage". You probably left your native when you were twenty-one, having squandered your adolescence striving to get here. At this point, you are twenty-three or older, and have been out of touch with the general Indian female population for more than a decade( the ones you find here are virtual stuff imported fromUS of big A which your Mom will never like). All the women you know back home are married. This manual is written for those of you who harbor hopes of acquiring a beautiful arranged bride. If you belong to the rarified set of intellectuals to whom the external female form holds no charms, and those who evaluate others according to the quality of their inner selves, this manual is not for you. Before you stop reading, please accept my heartiest congratulations on your self control and ideological correctness. I am not worthy of even addressing you (kneel! kneel!). No, this manual is for the rest of you, mere mortals, who still have enough red blood in their veins so that you can admit, even to yourselves, that you rather like the idea of having a beautiful wife. Of course, before I even go about describing how to acquire beauty, it is necessary to define it. And this is where I expect the most disagreement. There will be those among you who proclaim, "But beauty is in the eye of the beholder!" And you would be partly right. If you are a man who equates beauty to facial attractiveness, there is not much that this manual can do for you. You are a very fortunate man, for Indian women have the most beautiful faces of any race in the world. You have a very large pool to choose from, and you do not need much help in choosing, because you can look at each prospective bride's face and decide whether she is beautiful or not. No, this is written for those who would like their wife to have a good figure too. For you, the job is harder. Typically, Indian women do not get much physical exercise, and consequently, if they are not scrawny, tend to be on the overweight side. Why do you think sarees are so popular in India? Because they can hide all the embarrassing bulk! Some men think that Indian women do not have shapely legs by reasons of genetics. I say to them, check out the figures of the NRI girls who hits our life once in a blue. They are on par with anything I have seen on any other race. This is because they work out and take care to keep themselves in shape. You cannot go covering yourself up around there saying its your culture, not if you want to get dates. If you are one of those academic types who have not given much thought to the matter, or merely one of those blighters who like to ask intelligent questions to which you already know the answers, and ask me, "But why does one NEED a beautiful wife?" I would reply that beauty is a double edged sword. It has its advantages and disadvantages, some of which I summarize below.

Advantages of having a beautiful wife.

a) A beautiful girl is much easier to adjust to than an unattractive one. You will be much more tolerant of her faults during the initial "adjustment" phase of marriage, simply because you will not have the heart to get irritated with someone so lovely. Moreover she will be much easier to forgive after a fight.

b) If you are the typical desi engineer like me who is a super misfit in any sort of academic institution, you will not be exactly Adonis Reborn. If your wife is homely too, your child will probably look like indian pickle prepared by grandma roasted under south indian sun, or just a simple Blob. If you love your unborn children, you owe it to them to give them a beautiful mother.

c) A beautiful wife enhances your social stature. People will look at you and think, "How the ^&*% did that !@## land such a gorgeous babe? He must have something that is not visible on the outside!" You will get invited to more parties, especially by men who want to spend the evening drooling at her. Conversely, if your wife is homely, you will be rather embarrassed to take her to gatherings of your friends, especially if they are all married to knockouts.

d) And most importantly, sex will be much better if your wife is good-looking. Otherwise, after a couple of years when the pent-up horniness of the past 25+ years has worn off, you probably will not be even able to get it up, unless you resort to ungentlemanly and undignified tactics, like fantasising about Sridevi when you are in bed. I hope you all are above the age of 18years and wont rush to your local moral police for my outrageous but true to its core words.

Disadvantages of having a beautiful wife:

a) If you are one of those for whom innocence, virtue, and chastity are important, beautiful women are not for you. My empirical research shows that, while beauty (or the lack of it) in a woman is in no way indicative of her intelligence, beautiful women are invariably very street-smart. They KNOW that they are good looking, and have got used to people bending over backwards to accommodate them. This dawns on them very early on in life, when they observe that teachers are much nicer to them than to their less-attractive friends, when almost all the men they encounter behave like brainless, testeterone-driven apes in their presense, when they observe that they get things done twice as quickly in a government office or when they get desired offs easily while I have to kill my aunts and uncles to get a weekend off. As a teenager in college, a beautiful woman would have had lots of men vying with each other for her friendship and affections. She would have to be more than human not to have enjoyed the attention. She would have played the men one against the other, as women have done since time immemorial. She might have dated, and even had affairs. In the process, she would get to know men all too well, and would realize that they are but putty in the hands of a good-looking woman, I wonder why I am thinking of Old Queen Bee when i am writing this...

b) A good-looking woman is more than a match for the average desi like me who in later stages turn out far below average in everything. She will twist you around her little finger and make you jump through hoops. Things will get done her way nearly all the time. Of course, it will be fun to jump through hoops for someone as lovely as she is. A homely woman, on the other hand, will usually be so grateful to you for marrying her that she will treat you like a king... amI finding faults in my Queen ....

c) As I mentioned before, a beautiful woman is unlikely to be particularly virtuous or righteous. But that is okay, since too much virtue often goes hand-in-hand with rather undesirable traits. A virtuous woman may also be ugly, weird, boring, hyper-religious or frigid, so tell your mom or Dadi to take a ride for you are still thinking.

d) A beautiful woman is more likely to "stray" after marriage too. This is B'lore, and the fact that a woman is married does not make her off-limits to adventurers or would-be Casanovas. The more lovely a woman is, the more likely is she to be propositioned by her male colleagues or friends wonders happen with over doze of caffine in late night shifts. Ergo, she is subject to much more temptation than her homely counterparts. So bottomline remains "How to go about selecting a beautiful wife".

First of all, there is the matter of mentioning the fact to your parents. If your parents are anything like mine, they will freak out when they hear that their dear devoted son is actually interested in earthy things like beauty (and, by extrapolation, sex), the last time i thought of telling my mom about my love life she asked me wether i know how to wash my bums in the restroomor how to wear an underwear, but hey she is my mom all mother are not as genious as her. It is not considered good form to say that beauty is important to you in Indian circles. Here is a very important tip... do not leave bride-hunting to your parents... never ever my brother almost got hanged for lifetime with a girl having chastity of a NUN! Beauty is going to be the last of their priorities, coming after caste, horoscopes, family background, cullinary skills etc etc all perceived virtue of the girl. Make it very clear to them that beauty is high on your list of priorities be blunt and shameless or reprnt till eternity. State in no uncertain terms that you will not marry anyone who does not measure up to your standards. That will prevent them from goofing off during bride-hunting, shirking their responsibilities and palming off some family-friend's daughter on you. Another unpalatable fact is that your mother will not want you to marry someone too beautiful atleast I know my mother is gonna wage a war when i tell her about my Love life. This often comes as a surprise to most sons, but the reason is simple. Mothers know that, sooner or later, there will be a tussle between her and her daughter-in-law over her son's affections and loyalties. Since women are extremely conscious of their looks and tend to rate themselves accordingly, a beautiful woman has a psychological advantage over a less attractive one in an argument. Also, your mother knows that a beautiful wife will tilt the scales against her as far as you are concerned, since such a wife will probably have you dangling by the balls, if you pardon the expression. So, left to herself, your mother will limit her search to women who are less attractive than she perceives herself to be ( kindly note Due to some technical error made by my grandmother my sweet mother compares herself with Rekha). Before you start on your bride-hunting, you should convince yourself that you deserve a beautiful wife. Do not ever think, "But I am not so good-looking anyway, what right have I to demand a lovely girl?" IF shaggy can get Jennifer Lopez so can I.Since Man started walking the earth, it has been the man's wealth that has been traded off for the woman's beauty. Rest assured that your looks will be the last thing on a girl's mind when she rates you as a prospective husband. (I am limiting myself to arranged marriages here). She will be weighing your earning potential, hip hop[ knowledge your Damn ascent you developed here etc. Even in this land of feminism, "Cosmopolitan" has articles on "How to hook a trendy husband" and "The ten best places to meet successful men". You have worked hard, and wasted ten of the most wonderful years of your life getting where you are againa waste if you ask me. You deserve to get something out of it. Do not squander your bargaining position. In other words, do not be ashamed to make your preference for beauty known. How to check whether she is beautiful.

First of all, never consent to marry a girl whom you have seen only in photographs. PHOTOGRAPHS LIE my dad can vouch for it!!! Photography is an art that can make Pummy Aunty look like Zeenat Aman. All too often, photographs sent to prospective suitors contain only the face. Also, they usually have been so air-brushed and sanitized, all the pimples and other irregularities removed, that the end product has little in common with the original. Also, it is a certain fact that no woman will consent to send you photograph that presents herself in an unflattering light. These days, in the urban areas of India, it is often the practice to take an album-full of pictures of a girl when she gets to marriageable age. These pictures show the girl in various outfits, eastern and western. The album is then sent to prospective grooms. During my last visit to Dehradun, I learned from an authoritative source that many of these pictures are blatant forgeries, involving splicing the girl's head on to the figure of some other girl, sometimes professional models. In one case, pictures of a girl's good-looking sister were went out instead.
Bottom line: do not make a decision based merely on photographs! Darshan.
Once you see the girl directly, you can easily check whether her face measures up. The figure is a different matter altogether. Women have conducted more research into packaging themselves than have been conducted on the entire US space effort. You should realize that, while you were struggling in your engineering or in graduation, women were learning the techniques of camouflage. She KNOWS that it is her looks that count. Women are extremely honest with their friends about their positive and negative points. They are intensely aware of their flaws, and work systematically towards concealing them. So, if she seems to have a liking for loose, flowing sarees or salwar-kameez, keep your mind open to the possibility that she may be overweight. That fold of her saree draped oh-so-elegantly across her midriff might be concealing a paunch. It it is wound demurely around her back, she probably has spare tires now dont ask me why even Meghna wears it exception brotehrs beside its my earnest way of helping you. Does she walk slowly and sedately, like an old Spanish galleon making its way across the seas? She is probably holding her paunch in. So what do you do if she always appears in such clothes? You cannot very well demand that she change clothes... that would be outrageously bad form. AND SHE KNOWS THAT! One way to approach such a problem is the following. Tell her that she cannot wear a saree staying with you you are alergic to such alenght of cloth wastage. Tell her that if she is not willing to wear jeans, shorts and pants on a regular basis, you are probably not a good choice for her. Subtly hint that you would like to see her in western clothes. If she refuses flat-out, my friend, you can be sure that she is hiding something. If she has a good figure, she will make damned sure that you see it. A large percentage of women in India have huge hips and very heavy thighs. This is mainly due to lack of exercise. In a saree or churidar, it is impossible to check for these, which is why they are so popular. If a woman states that she does not wear pants, warning bells should ring in your mind. Let me reiterate, bottom line if a girl has something to show, she will make damned sure that you will see it. One way to see how your prospective bride looks when she is not dressed up is to ask to see her family albums. NOT the ones that they keep out ostentatiously but the ones that they keep tucked away at the corner of the shelf. A lot of overweight women go through crash diets during the wedding season, starving themselves or going to professional "fat-farms" to lose dozens of pounds, to get into presentable shape for the darshan. I know of one woman who lost 60 pounds in 8 months preparing for the wedding what humbug she was my own Pummy Aunty who gained it all and more back after the marriage. Pictures of the woman taken 2 or 3 years ago should tell you whether she is inclined to obesity. If, on the other hand, she is a thin woman who has padded herself up to look good on darshan day, there is no way on earth that you can tell. The best way to check for this sort of stuff is to enlist the help of a sympathetic, liberated, female, friend, sister or other relative. She can easily see through the disguise and give you unbiased estimates of the interior. So, if you have a sister, you had better start being nice to her like I am always with mine. HAPPY HUNTING MATES! ... UNITING!

Jassi from Covad

Now this is a story all about my friend Jassi

Who went from Covad to Denver Drinking Lassi

He was a GL in Provisioning

Pious Sardar never sinning

He got inducted in Covad research lab

But always complained "why's life so drab!"

He was constantly surrounded by geeks and nerds

With DSL and Routers their only words

He was a hard-core desi, I must say

But his wildest spirits were being kept at bay

Our desi veer could take this no more

So he decided to knock on his neighbor's door

His neighbor was a girl of Italian descent

Who spoke with an intriguing Brooklyn accent

Her name was Gina And I wish I had seen 'er

Cause the way he had described her any guy would dig her!

Jassi and Gina started to date

And would hangout together till pretty late

"Meri Gori, Meri Sohni Gori" was all he'd say

"No one can come in between us - no way!"

But notorious Aunty Chugalkhor was on the prowl

She sensed something in the air - was it foul?

Oh yes yes yes - She was definitely in luck

This, of all her stories would be a slam dunk!

She spotted her nephew in the mall

And that too ... oh gori de naal !!! (AYE HAYE! Oh HO!)

Well that surely did make my Pummy Aunty's day

A successful field day for her, I must say!

She headed straight back home to make a call

Undoubtedly to Jassi's mum in Balowall

Jassi's mum could not believe her ears

"Oh mera beta," she cried, wiping her tears

She tried and tried to get hold of Jassi

But each time she'd call his answerer would beep!

Where on earth could the dude be?

Well that's your imagination - Don't ask me!

Mum's patience finally started running out

So she left a message giving him the clout

"Oh Jassi GORI noo chhadd dey

Te vapas aja aithay!"

Jassi was obviously taken by surprise

Who the hell had blown his guise?

But now was not the time to guess

He had to quickly get outta this mess

He drummed up the courage to call his mum

But before he could speak, someone shouted "YOU BUM!"

Of course it was mother in a terrible mood

And now was not the time to be a dude!

"OH tu Amrika vich kee karda phirda

Murrh ke aja te tera viah kardiyay aithay

Ik kurrhi hagayee barrhee piyarree

Te puree seva karugee teyree!"

But Jassi was clearly not impressed

It was Gina with whom he was so obsessed

He told his mum that that was no deal

And that his piyaar for Gina was the one for real

Once again mother hit the roof

She could not believe that Jassi was such a goof!

She hung up the phone

And in the harshest of tones cried

"Mundiya - you're now on your own."

Just the next day...Jassi and Gina tied the knot

And their happiness together was easy to spot

The days went on ...

But with hardly a year gone ...

Jassi Singh started to realize

What was happening To his wallet's size!

Was Gina just after his money?

Or did she really mean it when she'd say "Oh honey!"

A few rotten thoughts crossed his mind

But he thought he was simply just going blind

But one sad day, Gina spilled the beans

She said she was leaving for New Orleans

She had met a guy called Tom, And so wanted a divorce

Which left our young veer in such remorse

He remembered his mum's favorite words:

"Goreeyan da koee parosa nayee hunda"

And thought to himself: "Wasn't I a brainless munda"

The divorce settlement did take place

And he lost half his assets - Let alone his face!

His despair could always be seen in his eyes

But everyone knows that "desiness" never dies

He soon met Deepak sir who taught him to rhyme


- has been his constant chime !!!!!!

Jassi from Covad Part2

O Balle Balle Balle ... YO YO YO!

The Covad service is back again

With another wild rap to drive you insane

So whoz the story 'bout this time?

Well its all 'bout Jassi - me and deepak Sir's Rhyme

Remember our GL who married a gori?

Well he's back again in yet another story !!

Refresh your minds when the dude got dumped

When Gina suddenly said ciao and left him stumped

Now a year has passed since that sorrowful day

And our veer has since come a long way

He wrote a dozen letters to his dear mum

Saying "Maaf Karna Ji, I was a real bum!"

"Arranged Marriage, Buss Arranged Marriage is the only true way

That an ishq connection will forever stay"

"Valentine's Day is almost here

And the smell of ishq is in the air!"

"So mummy ji, please find me a sohni vohti

Who'll make me the saag and maki di roti"

His mum read the letters and wept with joy

What wonderful words to hear from her boy!

"Oh Jassiya, mera beta, aja mera raja

I forgive you I forgive you so aja vayee aja"

"There's a beautiful and dutiful vohti for you

So chhaytee vapas aja and we'll find her for you"

Jassi jumped on a plane the very next day

And was soon back in B'lore eating paronthhay

Mummy ji then opened the album

And asked Jassi to make his selection

There was Sony from Ludhiana and sweety from Patiala

And Sonia from Samrala and Rosy from Kormangla!

The photos of girls went on and on ...

And Jassi kept looking until 'twas dawn!

It sure was hard trying to choose

So Jassi thought... Let's meet them all there's nothing to lose!

His head was now spinning outta control

As he pulled out the dice and began to roll!

Three showed up, so who could that be?

Yep that meant a trip to see Sweety!

They got to sweety just before four

And sweety's father opened the door

They talked and talked for a quite a long while

And man, was it great to see everyone smile!

But then her dad learnt all 'bout Gina ...

Could Sweety marry Jassi? ... Na jee na!

Jassi's mum tried real hard to change his mind

Hoping that those events could be put behind ...

Mera beta is a top Tech in Denver city

Working for Covad making plenty of money

He drives a Toyota -Covad di Gaddi!

And has a beautiful Bangla in B'lore city

He is a caring and loving young man ofcourse

So let's not talk about his innocent divorce!

But sweety's father was hard to convince

And in his eyes, Jassi was no prince!

So then to BTM they went to see Chandrayee

But Jassi messed up when he said: "Ki haal ai Kanta Bai!"

She glared at him right in the eye

And Jassi knew right then it was goodbye!

So the barfi and laddoo were still nowhere in sight

And everyone CSP bay was dying for a bite!

In Kormangla, Sonia was his mother's first choice

Who just loved to hear the sound of her own voice

She talked and talked and talked and talked

So Jassi just gave up and out he walked!

And then 'twas time to meet Raunak Tasneem

A kurri from Kolkata who was only nineteen

She opened the door and said: "Hi, aap kaisay ho?"

And Jassi looked up and said "Oh no!"

What had happened to our piyaari boli?

That was the problem with the folks in Bomanhalli!!

In Ludhiana city, Jassi then met Preety

An interesting girl though she looked past thirty!

And then down the road he went to see Reena

But her name sounded too much like Gina!

Mummy ji was now getting upset

On seeing how picky Jassi could get!

"Oh tu Jinny gori de naal na compare kar, rajay

Punjabi larkian vee bahut sohnian hundian ay

Yaad rakh...beautiful te dutiful ... Ay kurrian gulab de phul vargian hundian ay!"

So next in line was Sony...

A pretty young woman with a Home Science degree

She was cooking in the kitchen when Jassi got there

Wow! Now his cupboard at least would never be bare!

But she brandished the belna in such a way

That Jassi signaled his mum "cholo chaliyay!"

Jassi was now quite depressed

His life was more than totally messed

Rano turned him down because he was clean shaven

and Mano said no because he was five-feet-seven!

His mum's favorite words came to mind: "gulab de phul"

But now all he could think of was: "gobi de phul!"

Jassi decided to hit the local dhaba

And sat down to have an alloo da parontha

He just had taken his second bite

When he suddenly choked on a lovely sight

There she stood the woman of his dreams

Balle oh balle ... the queen of queens!

She was the prettiest woman he had ever seen

Prettier than any model in Vogue magazine!

But then he remembered he was in Ludhiana

And asking her for a date was totally mana!

There sure had to be another way

To at least say hi before she walked away

Jassi's eyes were glued in one direction

What was to be his plan of action?

But right at that moment came Jassi's biggest blow

When a kid ran up to her saying.."Mummy mummy, let's go!"

Jassi raised his arms in despair

What rotten luck he had to bear!

He called up Denver Team the very next day

Saying he was packing his bags and coming away!

I hear out there that girls are real fine

Who think that dark guys are totally sublime

So all ye ladies in the house

Please help my veer find a spouse

He's losing his beared at an alarming rate

So he's got to marry before it's too late!

We from repair too are longing for some jalebi

And how can you forget - a wonderful bhabhi!

So please give Jassi some sound advice

So he never ever needs to take calls and yes roll dice!!