Sad day for Bollywood...

Just as I open my favourite newspaper (Bombay Times, what else?), the headline hits me hard in the place where it hurts most. It reads:

Tip: Read the fine print.

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. No, they can’t do this. C’mon Mallika, you have seen the effects of another tribute first hand. You still had the balls, oops nerves, to do this?? I can imagine the director telling Mallika “I have always had this Khwhaish to Murder the Madhuri song. I loved Madhuri till she married that NRI doctor. So, now I am experiencing Pyaar ke Side effects.”

Well, I thought things couldn’t get any worse. But then, there are three things you should never overestimate: Bollywood, Sensex and myself. Just when you thought the depths have been reached, we’ll drive you underground with a new low.

So, I turn the pages, only to be greeted by this:

This time I was sure there had been a Spoonerism. I was eagerly looking forward to know which miss was being given a kiss. But all my dreams were shattered. It was like BT politely reminding me that I stink and that I should go shake a tower. Such a blushing crow to my heart.

The article was unbelievable. I am sure BT had decided to play their annual April 1 spoof article a bit early this time. But, I was the fool after all. A sentimental fool at that.

The article continues:

Amrita Arora! Geeta Basra! Udita Goswami! Tanushree Dutta! Refusing to kiss??? What next? Payal Rohatgi and Sherlyn Chopra in a burqa clad role? Bollywood can’t get any worse!
I mean, Tanushree Dutta wants us to appreciate her intrinsic beauty and histrionic abilities? And not her bare back? My cup of woes floweth over!

But I found this most interesting “Tanushree Dutta says she would find it embarrassing to face her parents if she kissed onscreen”

So, here goes another imaginary conversation… Tanushree Dutta’s Dad (TDD) and TD herself:
TDD: Er, what was that on your lips in Aashiq Banaya Aapne?
TD: Emraan Hashmi
TDD: Was that, oh my god no, was that a KISS? :O
TD: Oh c’mon, papa don’t preach. For aspiring starlets like me, a liplock with Emraan is like CAT for IIMs. Everyone has to go through the experience, irrespective of how screwed up you may feel at the end of it.
TDD: Oh, then it is ok. I always wanted to see you do an MBA. But you went an enrolled in that Miss India pageant.
TD: Aw c’mon Papa, and work on stupid excel sheets? You must be out of your mind. And who said Bollywood doesn’t have managerial skills. Read my interview in Indian Express, that Journalism of Courage. I said, “Bollywood is Bollywood! We still have our traditions and customs intact. It's just that we have learnt the art of glamorising and packaging everything. Good and bad products are packaged so well to be presented to the masses. The skin show is just a part of packaging. I guess the industry is becoming very smart in its managerial skills.”

Er, madam, where is the art of packaging everything? Shouldn’t it be unpackagaing? When Bollyowood starlets start using terms like ‘managerial skills’, ‘packaging’ et al, you know there couldn’t be a sadder day for Bollywood.

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Acknowledgements:

Pic of Tanushree Dutta: Neeraj Diwan, Noida, India

Tagline of Indian Express: a friend who incidentally works for HT Media.

Note: All links may not be safe for office/workplace

For no rhyme or reason - 3

Since it is the season of outrageous quotes and silly limericks, please excuse the crude writing and the obscene foul language... the quality of the writing has to be in sync with the subject after all...


Baby, one more time, I am Britney Spears
I tell this with a lot of tears
My mom has taken to bed
My last husband, wot’s his name K-Fed
Oh, I so want to kick both their rears…

I haven’t been able to come to grips
What’s the big deal about locking lips
Of course, t’was Material Girl and not some boy
But, why should I be so coy
I was only asking the diva for some tips…

Oh, for old times’ sake
I still say hi to Timberlake
Till one night at the Super Bowl
He did an act most foul
Oh, I suffered my first heart break

And, this one event, I did attend
The marriage of my childhood friend
The bastard took me for a ride
I never realized I was the bride
But, 55 hours later, I said “the End”

“What’s ur f***ing problem, dude?”
If I roam in front of my kids in the nude
I had taken so many drugs
I couldn’t care who looked at my j**s
Sometimes, I wish you’d stop being such a prude

JWM, OSO...

At the outset, let me confess to the crime that I committed...
I watched a Kareena movie (Jab We Met) in a theatre... (note to self: to err is human)
I liked the movie (note to self: I have lost it... no hope for me)

As if that wasn't enough, I also went and watched Om Shanti Om... as i said, lost it completely... 2 Hindi movies in 2 days, that too in theatres...

but that is not what this post is about... and if you are expecting a review or my opinion on the movies, let me tell you that I don't do movie reviews... more of that sometime...

Anyways, has it ever happenned to you that you make a self-deprecating joke, and the audience conveniently ignores the joke part...
like the time I tell my friends "ok, my PJs aren't that good", only to get a "yes, we agree" :((
or the time I tell someone "I am not all that smart", and he/she nods sympathetically in agreement...

well, for once, I happenned to be on the other side of the joke...
Bebo is pulled into the train in the opening scene in JWM by some bugger, and she says, "abhi main andar aa gayi hoon, abhi toh haath chod do... itni bhi acchi nahi dikhti hoon"
and I was nodding in agreement, unsympathetically...

OSO... again, I wont give my opinion...
just that when SRK repeats, "tum bore toh nahin ho rahi hai na" for the 3rd time, I shud confess I was a little bored...
and when they say "picture abhi baaki hai" for the first time, I said "good... i dint pay 100 bucks to leave so soon..." but when they repeated it soooo many times, I shud again confess that I felt "nahi, bas... khatam karo... screw the happys endings"

ok, if you found the above absolutely crappy, please attribute it to the fact that I saw 2 movies in 2 consecutive days in a movie theatre... something that I have never done in life...

after all, "main itna bhi bura nahi likhta"

"And He gave it to me"...

I always thought Bombay Times was all about Page 3, celebrities who are famous for being famous, parties, PYTs* in LBDs**, Bollywood gossip and stuff like that...
but BT has shown that it is also a newspaper that cares... that makes people want to believe in God, to believe in miracles and to give them hope.

[For those who don't read BT as often... you dunno what you are missing!
* PYT - Pretty Young Thing
** LBD - Little Black Dress]

This is what they had put up today... it was so good that I immediately did PrtScr rather than give you a link

And since I am affected by the limerick bug nowadays... here goes...

(warning: certain links may not be safe for office)

hello ppl, i'm the sexy Salma Hayek
i've alwez wanted to wear a low neck
alas, i used to have a flat chest
so, prayed to God for a bigger breast
He granted my wish, and din even ask for a paycheck!!!

Hey u, staring down there, look up please,
My name in Aramaic means ‘Calm and Peace’
If you really dig up my past
You’ll know I was an aspiring gymnast
So, there’s much more to me than movies of birds and bees…

From your eyes, I can tell
My sexy moves cast a ‘spell’
To think I suffered from dyslexia
Mind you, it is not anorexia,
For my size, I eat very well…

I can also sing a song
And not just look good in a thong
I am the producer of Ugly Betty
I am rich enough to own a private jetty
My list of achievements is quite long...

You’ve seen Bandidas, I hope
If not, throw yourself off a hill slope,
We rob many a bank,
And bad guy’s asses, we spank
And I even taught kissing to Penelope

I am the great Daruwala, bow before me!!!

Inspired from this (I know, most of you would have read it by now)

Sachin's worried he jus can't hit a ton
I say, "don't worry, gently ask Anjali for a son"
if she says "u stink", go have a proper bath,
or take her for a drive in ur Ferrari, haathon mein haath...
if all else fails, chuck it and eat cheese burger with mutton!

I confess, "ok, I'll be truthful...
i had some neat scotch, 2 glasses full"
some people think I shud be put behind bars,
for saying Sachin has a problem with his Mars,
"c'mon, didn't u get the sarcasm even after i said Double Bull?"

"ppl, tell me your problems, the pleasure's mine"
42 is not the answer, it's 'coz of the number Nine!!!
that bloke Sachin is such a nice fellow,
I could get away with calling him Buffalo!!!
keep wondering why people call me asinine?

oh arrogant, self made people, it's all in your stars
your life can be screwed by Jupiter, Venus and Mars,
I advise you to wear a bracelet of copper,
don't you threaten to run me under a super sopper,
Eat mutton cheese burgers, 'coz chickens cause SARS

"While batting on a bouncy track,
Sachin should not play from the back"
writes the five-feet-nothing Sunny...
now that is what I'd call super funny,
should ask Ganesha, oops Sayesha, to give SMG a virtual thwack!

I come out with predictions every week,
religiously, the elephant God's blessings I seek...
I predict, "you'll get lucky and rich",
with luck, even your dog will find a new bitch,
Strange, sometimes I hear people whisper 'Crazy Old Freak'

When all goes wrong, blame your luck
accepted, sometimes my predictions do suck
"even the mighty Daruwalla can lose his wicket"
Sob, people want to send me to space on a one-way ticket,
why grudge an old man a chance to make a quick buck?

if you are tired and sick
of reading one more limerick
send me your name, age, CTC and birth charts,
I'll use a predictive technique called 'throwing darts'
and tell you, your chances of scoring with a hot chick.

PS: The Sunil Gavaskar article is from ToI, I wanted to give a link, but for this...

Of Lazy Sunday Mornings

Warning: Completely senseless post (like all the others in this blog)

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It is amazing how much one changes over the years, and Sunday mornings are a best reflection of the metamorphosis.

There was a time when I used to get up at 6.00 am on a Sunday morning, eagerly awaiting the sound of the newspaper man flinging the Hindu on to our verandah. Time when seeing a sunrise was not restricted to some vacation with friends in Goa. Time when friends used to come over at 8.00 am with the make-do cricket kit – one bat, another with a broken handle to be used for the non striker, one rubber ball, (a tennis ball if someone got lucky), and three wooden sticks. Time when we used to invariably hit the ball into some neighbour’s house and got yelled at. Some days, the evil auntie confiscated the ball and we had to return crestfallen. A quickie lunch and more games, games and games.

Nowadays, Sundays are so different. I end up doing tp till 3.00 am on Sat nite, and crash thereafter. Hoping to get some sound sleep, promising myself that waking up before 12.00 is a waste of a Sunday. (one of the favourtie quotes I have read: “A day not wasted is a day wasted”).

But there seems to be a big conspiracy to ensure that SRK doesn’t get his beauty sleep on Sunday mornings. First, it is the sun, aiming his rays straight on to my face. (ok, ok, I forgot to draw the curtains, but why does the bugger have to rise at 6.00 am on a Sunday? I mean, take a break dude)… So, I get up, draw the curtains and come back to my oh-so-cosy bed…

No sooner have I returned to dreamland, the doorbell goes DING DONG. Ah, the milkman, who comes late on weekdays (thus making me late for office) and somehow has a resolution that he will make up for it on a Sunday. Ok, am half awake now, so might as well glance through the headlines on the paper. (see, some habits die hard). So, there goes another half hour, with me moving from the headlines to the sports pages, the gossip columns and the comic strips. Finally, the funniest part in the paper...

I can visualize my bosses reading this and going bwahahaha, "Let's see, what do we have here? socialising, entertaining, amusing yourself and others, generally having a ball." Hmm, should give the new analyst gadha some work"

I decide I need more sleep when the Aishwarya pic that I am drooling over is getting blurry, and it is not the mistake of the photographer. The eyes are pleading with me to get back to sleep.

Off I go to bed again, and feel thankful for such lazy Sundays. Three years back, I would have been getting ready for the marathon Sunday lecture that I used to take while coaching students. Ah, they would all curse me mentally (and some audibly) for waking them up on a Sunday morning and discussing Debit-Credit etc.

But just as I lapse back into dreamland, the doorbell goes DINGDONG again. And a voice shrieks ‘Kachraaaaaaaa’… curse myself for not putting the garbage out the previous night. (Ah, should get married soon, at least the wife would nag me to do it every nite without fail... ok, people from the family reading this, don’t tell my mom I said this!!!)…

Dump the garbage, and get back to bed. Remember 2 minutes later that I did not wash my hands. Ok, I am normally not a fussy-about-cleanliness person, but somehow my hands stink. Get up, wash hands, go back to zzz… Somehow, I keep dreaming about the excel model that I was working on… Damn the job, they are making me work too hard.

Ok, by now, you know what is gonna happen. Funny how both the SRKs are so damn predictable. It goes with the name I guess. Yes, the doorbell rings again. It is the bai this time. Wait a minute, didn’t I tell her to come late on Sundays. Well, I did, but then she comes up with some excuse that I am too sleepy to recollect. Anyways, by now, I am more than half-awake, so might as well have some breakfast.

I open the fridge, only to find it empty. All those inventory management lessons from MBA have been happily forgotten, and I am too lazy to go down six floors to get something. Convince myself that I am getting too fat and missing a meal once a week wouldn’t hurt.

Log in to the computer, only to find that I am not the only one awake on a Sunday morning. After all, everybody else has a milkman, a kachrewaali and a bai. Just as I am about to bug people on chat, the net conks off.

I try my hand at AoE, but in my sleepy state, the computer kicks my ass. Not wanting to start of the day on a bad note, I shut the comp and go back to bed.

Soon, I am woken by a series of continuous squeaks. A stupid sparrow has flown in through the window, and like Abhimanyu, has no idea how to get out. But this was no Abhimanyu, it was a she (how did I know? By looking at her chest, stupid!). Now, I don’t really like birds in my house, (unless they walk in wearing a mini-skirt), and I had no patience for this cute li’l sparrow. They shit all over the place, and then bang themselves against a fan and drop dead, creating a bloody mess. [ok, before someone from PeTA reads this and decides to become a PITA for me, let me clarify that I have nothing against birds, animals, fish, worms and other things that you guys may care to protect. As long as you keep coming out with innovative ways to protect animal rights, who am I to complain?]. So, I somehow drive her out without killing her.

Then, off I go to sleep again. Till my stomach growls for the missed breakfast and I decide to hop over for an early lunch...

And what better way to end a morning of nothingness than by blogging about it?

Remember Murphy?

Just when I thought my friend Murphy had gone off to Bangalore to stay with my other friend Monk, he pops up today to say Hi. That is what I like about Murphy. You see, there are some friends to whose place you will go only if you are invited; there are other good friends to whose places you will invite yourself to; then, there are those closest friends whom you can visit without giving notice. Just spring a surprise on them, when they least expect you. You can be rest assured that in spite of you barging in at very inappropriate times, they will still welcome you with a smile. Now, Murphy is one of my closest friends. So, naturally he has the ‘haq’ to drop in announced, any time he feels like.

I should have suspected Murphy would be arriving. He hadn’t visited me in a long time. Today was a very usual day, a xerox copy of so many previous days.

Go to office, log in to gmail, mail, chat, update stupid cheapo status msg, remember that work is to be done, do work, read blogs, do more work, crib to friends about work, crib to friends about not having ‘good’ work, eat tasteless lunch, remember mom’s cooking, come back to reality, solve Hindu crossword, give up half way, order coffee, ask for extra strong coffee to guard against drowsiness, fall asleep anyway, remind self that ‘power nap’ is a concept only in theory and not when your boss comes around to see how work is progressing, start cribbing about snacks not coming one hour before it usually comes, eat tasteless snack and wonder whether the cribbing/waiting was worth it, look at watch, see it is 5.30, expect boss to call you since he always calls ‘after’ the official closing time, answer phone from boss, feel happy that you were proved right about him calling, feel sad that you will have sit late now, slog some more, realize that the work is not too hard and can be finished later too, pack up and leave for home… busy day, eh?

Anyways, here I am, going home after such a hard day’s work. I reach Dadar station and realize that my home keys have been conveniently forgotten in office. Now, on any usual day, I could have said ‘chuck it’ and gone home, where one or the other roomie would be there. But, both the roomies had taken off for Diwali and gone home. (u loser, why didn’t you also take leave and go home?). I call up my friend who usually sits late in office in the hope that I can ask him to pick up my keys. Call. Not reachable. Call. Not reachable. Call. Not reachable. Call. Not reachable. (yeah, BPL has doubled its network!!!). So I call another friend and tell him that if I can’t collect my keys, I will stay at his place. Now, I consider that I have the ‘haq’ to drop in unannounced, but when friends work till midnight, dropping in unannounced will mean being greeted by a locked door. He says, “No problem yaar. Isme poochne ki kya baat hai.” (thanks dude, sau saal jiyo).

Anyways, I hop into a train for Churchgate. Empty train. In Mumbai!!! Yippie… mebbe things are not so bad after all. A couple gets in. Guy starts necking around. (even he was thinking “Empty train. Yippieee”). Keep going dude, this is what I need to take my mind off forgotten keys… (man, the guy looks like a gorilla… the girl is cute though… how come all the stupid guys get all the sexy girls… I mean, ignoring minor things like my pot belly, slightly bald head, PJs and bad dressing sense, I am sexy too… after all, my name is SRK)… anyways, there is this irritating ‘chamathu payyan (CP)’ inside me who yells “move it man. Don’t embarrass them. How would you like if someone stared at you and your girl?” So for once, I listen to this CP and move on…

Anyways, I am praying hard that the security doesn’t leave early, and the office is kept open… Funny how a half atheist like me ‘prays’ when in trouble… As if, my prayer would make God delay the security guy… I mean, his wife and kids would be praying that he returns home early…

I rush back to office… the lights are on… thank you God… mebbe Mrs. Security did not pray hard enough… anyways, I collect my keys and heave a sigh of relief…

Oops, so sorry Murphy, I’ll have to see you off to Bangalore again. You see, I got the keys.

I return home thinking of happy things in life. Diwali mood. Festival of Lights. Prosperity. Joy.

I enter my building. Press the lift button. Press. No response. Press. No response. Press harder. No response.

Ok, I climb the six floors. I am wheezing, partly from the Diwali cracker smoke and partly from the effort of climbing my Mt. Everest. I am totally breathless.

One more person is breathless. Murphy. He is laughing his guts out.

PS: Happy Diwali ppl

Tera life itna boring hai!

I like to think that I am a friendly guy. As in, people generally won’t go out of the way to avoid me when they see me walking down the road. Or pretend their network conks off when I call them. (in fact, some complain that I do not call them!). So, most weekends, I either make an effort to meet up with some friends, or they call me up and coerce me into meeting them.
But some weekends, I am too lazy to venture out. Normal, one would think. Not according to the MBA 'Law of the Weekend', it seems.

A typical chat conversation with any random friend goes like this:
Random Friend (RF): Dude, wht’s the plan for the evening?
Me: Nuhtin yaar…
RF: C’mon man, how can u sit at home on a weekend?
Me: arre, feeling lazy yaar ("which section in the IPC makes it a crime to sit at home on a weekend?")
RF: tera life itna sad hai yaar/tu itna sad hai yaar/fin guys are boring man/paani mein doob mar/isliye tujhe ladki nahi milti etc…
Me: ttyl ( "tnx a lot buddy for reminding me abt how sad my life is! What would one do in life without you?")

RF logs off, probably goes out and has ‘fun’. Me, go back to my interrupted AoE game (“just when I was thrashing the enemy, I get a ping. Murphy bugger. Must remember to log off gtok before I start AoE”).

And then, I wonder…

Sitting in a dark place, munching on buttered popcorn (see Ms. Dietician, am getting calorie conscious… happy?), and watching sad hero (with six pack abs!… should start exercise) flirt with my sexy heroine (oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, how can someone be sooooo beautiful… should put her pic as wallpaper, but Asin rules... for now), is considered ‘fun’ activity? Not my cup of tea.

Going to shopping mall, window shopping, dreaming about the things you will buy (or get your ‘friend’ to buy), and about the things that you can never afford (yeah, they have a Rolls Royce in the Atria mall, Worli) is a ‘fun’ activity? All men who like shopping, raise your hands. Ok, ok, your girlfriends are not looking. Now... look ma, no hands!

Going to a place, eating 2 mouthfuls of expensive crab (not crap, crab, tastes good), carrying polite conversation about how the job is, moving on to more impolite conversation of how it sucks, and even more impolite topics of who is going around with whom ("mera number kab aayega?"), is ‘fun’ activity?

Going to a place, ordering fermented barley water, paying thrice the MRP for it, and feeling happy that they give free peanuts to munch (peanuts... that reminds me, boss, how about a raise?), is ‘fun’ activity?

Going to CCD/Barista, staring at the sinful chocolate pastry (oh man, I wish I could have it, but my jeans is already tight), then ordering exotically named beverage (I can’t pronounce it, so it must be worth the 100 bucks they charge), sipping it while slyly observing the heavy duty necking going on in the adjacent table (ahem dude, 'Dark Temptation' is the name of the pastry... not the title of the movie that you downloaded last night and decided to screen for us, LIVE!), is ‘fun’ activity?

Going to a place, rolling a heavy ball trying to hit nine sticks at the far end of the room, or using a long pole to push multi-coloured round balls into a hole, is ‘fun’ activity?

But, sitting at home, playing a fabulous game of AoE, royally kicking your enemy’s ass, feeling good about it, doing a victory dance in the privacy of your room… is a ‘sad’ life?

I beg to disagree. The only time it is sad is when the computer royally kicks your ass.

You go and have your ‘fun’. I am happy with my ‘boring’ life.

PS: Friends, this doesn’t mean the next time you plan a movie, dinner, or a meet, you conveniently forget to invite me. All of that is ‘fun’ for me too. Serious.