The fine art of dealing with TBMs

Rock. Me. Hard place. Can wriggle out it. Cut a hand off if need be.

Devil. Me. Deep Sea. Will sell my soul to the former. Can’t swim, you see.

Talkative Mami 1. Me. Inquisitive Mami 2. Oh brother, now that’s something that I have struggled to learn how to survive. If you haven’t figured it out already, this is an essay on that scary species called the TamBrahm Mami (TBMs). Or more precisely, how to deal with them. With interesting tips, from my wealth of experience.

Yes, dear friends, one can survive local trains in Bombay, the occasional bomb blast, the more frequent office canteen 'Chinese cuisine' and the slightly more frequent India’s batting collapse. But to be caught between two TBMs, is to experience the very worst form of torture.

A little background is in order. As a boring, extremely shy guy, I live happily in my bubble of self-inflicted solitude like a monk, imbibing some spirits in the pursuit of 'happiness'. Experience has taught me that when asked to choose between spending time with me and having their perfectly manicured nails pulled out with pliers, most sensible girls (oxymoron?) opt for the latter. And I am quite happy with this arrangement, as I have never liked perfect nails anyways. I mean, for all this hoo-ha, they are just a bunch of dead cells being pushed out by your body. And after all, how boring an existence you must be leading, sans any excitement or suspense, that you don’t even bite your nails off! But we digress. We were to talk about TBMs.

Anyways, the TBMs in question have this miraculous ability to picture every unmarried guy as an ‘eligible bachelor’ who is in dire need of their matchmaking skills. No matter how utterly useless the guy in question is. Some people say, unkindly, that TBMs are jobless ladies with too much time on their hands and hence keep meddling in other people’s lives. Those people have no idea what they are talking about. TBMs are very busy people. But they also care about the losers of the world. And that is why, in the midst of their busy schedules involving keeping track of family problems in TV serials, watching out to check that the neighbour’s daughter is not playing mummy-daddy in the terrace with her boyfriend, shouting at the maid for not mopping the area below the sofa, rustling up a snack for the kids and incidentally, maintaining a set of perfectly manicured nails, they take time out to network with other TBMs with equally busy schedules. After all, the smart kids can get hitched by themselves, but someone has to uplift the downtrodden.

TBMs are very astute people at coaxing out information. Which is why I believe the Mumbai Police should replace their entire intelligence network with TBMs. They don’t use crude methods like torture to ferret out what they want to know. They will sweetly offer you a nice cup of sakkara pongal, and while you are concentrating on the ghee-laden texture of it, they will casually ask you what sound like innocent questions. Even an experienced campaigner like yours truly, with years of experience in handling these tricky situations, has fallen prey to this tactic.

And hence, as one fellow loser to another, let me warn you: THERE ARE NO INNOCENT QUESTIONS! Be suspicious. Be wary wary suspicious!

And since I am in a generous mood, let me throw you another trip. Remember the time when you casually boosted your CV value by making up stories about your leadership skills and fibbed about your CGPA because you wanted that campus job. Or the time you wanted to impress that nice chick and kept harping about how you are a University gold medallist. You don’t want to do that here. TBMs will anyways take your meagre non-achievements and spin them into heroic conquests to pitch you to whoever they want to hitch you with. With such innovative people, some creative liberties are par for the course.

In fact, if ever there was a time to underplay your already bare cupboard of useless talents, this is it. So, if some TBM asks you what you have studied, don’t show off your top-10 b-school degree (or is it a diploma?). Simply say “B.Com.” I can assure you, in a TamBrahm community of over-achieving IIT-ians, there is no better way of ensuring that you remain a Bachelor. Even if it be of stupid Commerce. Don’t say “B.A.” though. We might be losers, but even we can’t stoop to that level!

Similarly, if they ask you your age, don’t preen like a Bollywood actress, and state a number which is about half your real age. You are not a college student. Or Aamir Khan. If anything, add a few years to your chronological age. That’s how old you look anyways. I have it first hand that any number north of thirty is actually quite safe. Of course, having a bald(ing) pate and / or a protruding tummy helps.

Some TBMs may venture further and even ask you your nakshatram (birth-star for the non-Tams, don’t even ask what that means!). Or even your gothram (gotra for the non-Tams. We like our words to end in –ums). These are the sly Shakuntala Devis, the ones who can draw up your horoscope, run it across their database, and shortlist the ones which match, before you can say “Ashvini, Kashyapa Gothram”! And all that, in their mind! Because these Chachi Chaudharys have a brain faster than a super-computer. But usually, this question’s a no-brainer, because, you are not even supposed to remember all that stuff! (What? You do? What are doing here then, go recite your evening sandhyavandhanam!) While they happily exhaust their quota of “1000 lies to arrange a marriage”, you at least have the satisfaction of answering at least one question honestly.

Some of the more adventurous of you may even opt to be a bit more truthful, and drop a few hints about how you relished that mutton biryani at your friend Fatima’s place. Eating chicken can be forgiven, but having friends belonging to that-which-shall-not-be-named religion! Your marriage prospects would be slaughtered faster than that halal goat. Of course, this is only advised for those who have either decided not to get married at all, or have a girlfriend lined up. Those looking to merely delay the inevitable may skip this lesson, since once word gets around on the TBM network about your 'untouchable' status, not even another TBM can get you hitched. And that’s saying a lot!

"How could you forget?"

"I didn't forget. I was just... er... too busy."

"Too busy? That just makes it worse. I could have forgiven memory loss. But not apathy!"

"Apathy? Now that's too harsh. You know I care about you!"

"You used to. Nowadays I feel you are ignoring me."

"Oh c'mon. I accept that I haven't been in touch as much as we'd have liked to."

"As much as we'd have liked to? Dude, you have almost ditched me. Is there someone else?"

"There is no one. Although sometimes I wish there was."

"What? You wish? First you forget my birthday, and now you are fantasizing about cheating on me?"

"You'll always be special. But you know what, we do need some space in our relationship."

"Oh, so now you want to shut me out of your life? Might as well pack me off!"

"Trust me, I have thought of that too. Ok, there is no gentle way to put it, so let me be blunt. I am kind of bored of this relationship."

"If anything, you have become boring! All you talk nowadays is about money and houses and all material things."

"Well, I admit that those things are kind of on top of mind, but hey, I do lighten up now and then."

"Yeah, when was the last time you really did that? Remember, we used to have such good times with really sick jokes and lame rhymes. Where has all the magic gone?"

"I doubt if there was any magic to begin with."

"Well, it might have been pretty ordinary, but hey, we did laugh about it. And so many friends laughed with us."

"Yeah. Those were the days... I guess this is what happens once we get older. We forget to laugh."

"You may be getting older. I am not!"

"But you are. I mean, you are 5 years old! And that's like 35 blog years, you dog!"
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PS1: I know celebrating blog birthdays is a bit lame. But then, we are such losers. So smile and wish us.

I have a dream...

I have a dream...

I have a dream that one day this city will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all money is created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the mud hills of Ghatkopar, the sons of pure-veg Jains and the sons of daily-fish Kolis will be able to sit down together at the table of housing society dinner.

I have a dream that one day even the suburb of Chembur, a place sweltering with the heat of smoky traffic, sweltering with the heat of chemical factory emissions, will be transformed into an oasis of open spaces and Acres club greenery.

I have a dream that my measly little bank balance will one day live in a city where they will not be judged by their color of black or white, but by the currency of their full-convertibility.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Colaba, with its vicious elitists, with its building secretary having his lips dripping with the words of marital status and food preferences; one day right there in Colaba, little bachelor boys and bachelor girls will be able to join hands with slimy uncles and suspicious aunties as tenants and landlords.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every basement shall be exalted, every rate per square foot shall be made low, the car parking will be made free, and the super-built up will be made carpet, and the glory of the land shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our homelessness into a beautiful symphony of home ownership. With this faith we will be able to work alone, to live alone, to struggle alone, to go to bed alone, to stand up for bachelorhood alone, knowing that we might be married one day.


And if Mumbai is to be a great city this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Mumbai. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of Mulund. Let freedom ring from the heightening skyscrapers of Panvel!

Let freedom ring from the Rahejas of Colaba!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of Powai!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Mud Mountain of Ghatkopar!

Let freedom ring from Lodha's Fountain of Thane!

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every building and every tower, from every suburb and every town, we will be able to speed up that day when all of evolution's children, bachelor men and married men, Jains and Gultis, vegetarians and meat-eaters, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old tenant hopeful, "Free at last! free at last! thank SBI teaser rate, we are free at last!"

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PS1: Apologies to Martin Luther King, Jr. May his soul rest in peace.

PS2: This is what happens when one hunts for real estate in Mumbai. With the twin disadvantages of being a bachelor, and a non-vegetarian.

PS3: I seriously have a dream. Of buying a house in Bombay one day. And I shall make it happen. Not by hook or crook, but going strictly by the book!

Funny Matrimonial Ads!!!

This is from my twitter timeline, cross-posted here since I had nothing better to do... also because I want to be able to look back at what I wrote and feel silly about it later... and looking up blog archives is far easier than looking up tweet archives...

So, presenting, What I find funny about matrimonial ads...

"I am a fun-loving person". 
Er, you mean that others hate fun?


"Looking for a person with clean habits." 
You mean, you are looking for a nun with a good laundry service? 
(People who don't get the pun, please go here)


"Well educated." 
Er, the only education that you can get out of a dug up hole filled with water is swimming lessons. (Again, people who don't get the pun, please go here)


"Traditional, yet modern." 
Can I say "Vegetarian, but eats chicken" or even "Religious, yet atheist"?


"God-fearing." 
Why would you fear a being who is purported to be a source of limitless mercy, who can pardon everything?


"Respects elders." 
For what? Having spent more time than you on this planet? For always saying "Our times were better"?


"Trained Bharatanatyam dancer." 
Ok, you know 36 different ways of shaking your head "No" everytime I am in the mood?


"6.5 lpa, working with MNC." 
You mean, if you ever resign your job, I should be able to divorce you?


More when I come across them...
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PS: I just happened to chance upon such gems while pulling my sister's leg since she is on the look-out. To all you babes out there, I am still single ;)

Baby Songs

If you are crappy and you know it, wipe your ass
If you are crappy and you know it, wipe your ass
If you are crappy and you know it
And you really shouldn't show it
If you are crappy and you know it, wipe your ass!

Wet your nappy and you know it, raise a stink
Wet your nappy and you know it, raise a stink
Wet your nappy and you know it
And you really should just throw it
Wet your nappy and you know it, raise a stink!

If you pee-pee and you know it, piss some more

If you pee-pee and you know it, piss some more

If you pee-pee and you know it

And you really want to shove it

If you pee-pee and you know it, piss some more!

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PS1: Inspired by an episode of two and a half men, where Charlie sings some jingle to make a kid piss.

PS2: If I ever have kids, I will sing this to them...

Punch Drunk!

If you drink a lot of port wine, and then promptly puke (yeah, yuck!), would it be called deportment?

And if your friend offers you more port wine after this incident, can it be said that he's reporting you?

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You may begin, but I also need tonic.

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The slush you are drinking is a cheap commodity. The one I have is an elite brandy.

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Once, I was so drunk I didn't know whiskey to open my house with.

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If you see a joker too many, maybe you are overdoing the rummy part.

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Whenever you think you have offended someone, it might be a good idea to tell them "Please beer with me"

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I love to eat rice, but I can't drink its wine for God's sake!

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Once I saw a girl merely nodding to the barman and he brought her apple wine. Turned out, he knew what was in cider mind.

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Once I went to a fancy dress party where I think I saw the green fairy, but turned out she was absinthe.

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PS 1: Inspired partly by this lady's post on random word play. And partly by the wonderful booze session with my friends yesterday night.

PS 2: Some years ago, I was a chamathu, god-fearing, pure vegetarian, teetotaler Iyer payyan. Who only hit on, you guessed it, fruit punch.

Tamil Fans protest against word 'Rajnigandha'

The Vengayam
Our Ordinary Correspondent
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Thousands of enraged Tamil fans are protesting in front of the Hindi Prachar Sabha, against the word "Rajnigandha", demanding it to be renamed into something that is not demeaning to the name of Superstar Rajinikanth.

"Rajnigandha sounds very similar to Thalaivar's name... plus our Indhi teacher taught us that gandha means dirty! These North Indians keep referring to Rajini saar as black, bald and ugly, but now they have gone too far with this flower's name. Bloody phools. We want that word removed from every Indhi dictionary!", said Annamalai, proudly waving his badge "Vice President - Rajini Fan Club, Mettunasuvampalayam" in our reporter's face, while two of his cows mooed in the background.

On being told of the subtle differences between ganda and gandha, another fan, Muthu bellowed "Da, dha, tha...  all look the same to us. When Thalaivar wants to convey sandosam, he says santhosam, which clearly shows that they are all the same! And you write kanth, or gandh, it looks the same in Tamil! Try it in Google transliterate if you want!", thereby scattering 'pearls' of knowledge about the Tamil script and google products in the same line.

Meanwhile, another protester was seen demanding that the Amol Palekar movie of the same name be  banned from releasing. When told that the movie was released in 1974, he said "So what? You think we won't ask to ban the movie just because it is old? First that Amol Palekar steals our Rajini Saar's Thillu Mullu and calls it Gol Maal. And now, he releases this offensive movie to demean our Thalaivar." He refused to entertain any argument that Gol Maal had in fact released before Thillu Mullu, pointing out that Gol Maal 3 is yet to release!

Protesters were also seen outside the Singanallur office of a mouth-freshener company, demanding that the company change the name of its pan masala. "Thalaivar's name cannot be used for some stupid pan masala. Who do you think he is? Sania Mirza?", said one more 'tall' fan, while simultaneously spitting out some chewed up Manickchand gutka juice.

Meanwhile, the man in question, the Superstar, sat unperturbed in his home. With Raghavendra calm. He was seen composing an email forward from his id gmail@rajinikanth.com. The subject read: Rajnikanth Facts.
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PS1: Yes, totally running out of ideas. Totally.

The AC loses its cool!

Smoke billowed out of the Air-Conditioner (hereinafter known as "The AC") as it vented its anger. It had definitely lost its cool. "Enough is enough. I shall not endure any more of this non-sense!"

"Chill dude, pick a beer, and tell me what happenned?", said the fridge.

"Have you noticed? I end up getting blamed for everything from evil arrogance to apathy to ignorance!", the AC fumed.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, people end up dragging my name into all sorts of arguments...

When they want to accuse someone of ignorance, they say things like 'What would you know, sitting here in the city in air-conditioned comfort? Go to the villages to see the real India', while being perfectly ignorant of the fact that I am present in many rural homes!

Same goes for apathy. They'll utter contemptuously, 'Millions of farmers sweat it out in the sun to produce food so that you can sit here in your air-conditioned restaurant and enjoy it. Think about them the next time you waste food'.

And so on..."

"Hmm, I still don't get it", the tube-light said, showing a flicker of doubt.

"I mean, why don't they say 'What would you know, sitting here in your machine-washed clothes, visit the Dhobi ghat to know the real India' or 'Millions of farmers wade through muddy water while you drink your UV-purified water' or some such tripe?", the cooler joined in, blowing off some steam.

"Well, it's high time someone else got called names. I am tired of being blamed for idiocy for so long!", the TV beamed, happy to have found out that some other box was even more of a dirty word now.

"I agree. It's good to know that I am not the only thing that causes people to get hot under the collar", said the steam iron, warming up to the topic at hand.

"You see, it's about generating a positive spin. I do half as good a job as the AC, and no one has ever blamed me for anything", the fan whirred, "except maybe when people hang themselves."

"If I may I chip in...", started the computer, like the silent person who unsuccessfully tries to get a point across in a noisy GD before being cut off...

"Whirrrr, Whirrr, Whirrr" went the mixer, making no sense, but shredding everything in the process.

"I got it! I got it!", the tube-light started, though nobody was sure what point had been made at all.
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PS1: I know. Lame post. But when you take inspiration from lifeless objects in your room, the jokes can neither be consumed nor be durable.

PS2: Not highlighting the puns in italics, since the engineers who read my blog are assumed to have become smarter over the years.

Oh God! Not again!

"What's with the silly grin?"

"Nothing"

"Oh c'mon, out with it. I know something's cooking."

"Why so curious? I told you, it's nothing. Just enjoying the sights and sounds of my creation. How wonderful the sun looks, how beautifully the birds chirp"

"I am surprised. Most days, you are so grumpy"

"So would you be, if you are woken up with a loud suprabatham day after day after day. I can't even hit the snooze button to turn them off! And barely am I awake, and they dump a potful of water on my head!"

"What you don't like to wake up to the suprabatham? It's such a nice song..."

"I'd much prefer that new song. The one that goes Swaminathana Thoongaadhe Va Wake-ah Wake-ah Eh Eh... Swaminathana Eh Eh Wake-ah Wake-ah Eh Eh..."

"What?"

"You know, the one that had that nice lady shaking her truthful hips... what's her name... aan, Shake-ira!"

"Oh, the Goddess Shakira! God, you have such a Mallu accent!!!"

"Yeah, Why do you think they call it 'God's own country'?"

"Yeah, makes sense. Anyways, I was asking, how come so cheerful today?"

"Well, you know how it is. Usually I am fed up of my job. Day in and day out, I process applications from so many people. Find me a job, make me rich, cure my illness, help me marry, I want a baby... Who do they think I am? Chamatkari Baba Bengali?"

"But I thought that was your raison d'etre... solving the world's problems. I mean, with great power comes great responsibility and all"

"You say that stupid Spiderman dialogue one more time and I'll bloody spin a web and stick your sorry ass up on it!"

"Ok, ok, chill. All I was saying is, you are God, it's your duty to solve the world's problems..."

"Isn't it enough to see that I made a beautiful garden without having to believe that I'll bury wish-fulfilling fairies at the bottom of it too?"

"Eh?"

"What I was saying was, isn't it enough that I created the damn world? You know how difficult it is to come up with all this in six days? You can't even write a project appraisal note in that time! And just when I thought that I can take off for a vacation after all this hard work, you ungrateful people want me to stick around solving your silly problems?"

"Hmm... so, you were smiling because now you get to go on a break?"

"No, but every once in a while, in the middle of all the tiring Kashmir conundrum and the misery of millions starving while food rots in the government warehouses, I get called to do this delightful task!"

"Which is?"

"Help Priyanka find a suitable match! Now, this is work that is fulfilling. The kind of work that is the Holy Grail of every HR person who ever designed a KRA form. See, a smart, sexy, successful, single lady wants my help, MY help, to find her a guy!"

"Wow, is that alliteration or hyperbole?"

"Aww, I am talking of Priyanka Chopra! And all you can think of is figures of speech?"

"Figures which leave you speechless. Figures of speech. #sameguy"

"I should have figured that out! Damn, make that omniscient minus one."

"It's ok. So, PC wants you to fix a match?"

"Oh, don't call it match fixing. That's what those cricketers do. All I'll do is find a guy to bowl this maiden over."

"Aargh, bowl a maiden over has to be the most overused cricket pun. Being a God, you could've come up with something better!"

"It's ok. Puns are the lowest form of wit."

"You don't mean..."

"I mean!"

"Ok, you mean! Oh, I keep forgetting the original topic. But, surely, you won't lower your almighty self to become a marriage broker?!?"

"Ah, it's what I have been doing for ages. When people don't want to match horoscopes, they put flowers at my feet to help them decide. One white, one red, and pick one and so on..."

"Why don't they simply toss a coin?"

"They could, and mathematically, they'll probably end up with the same result. But you have to admit, tossing a coin is no way as dramatic as finding two different coloured flowers, placing them at a deity's feet, finding a toddler who's given the task of picking the flower, taking a deep breath and hoping that the flower you want gets picked!"

"Yeah, I agree. So, why do you think picking a guy for PC would be an enjoyable job?"

"You see, the poor girl has such simple criteria. All she wants is a sincere, honest, guy who'll love her unconditionally. And yes, he should be funny. Why, with a bit of work on the funny part, a loser like you could fit the bill!"
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PS1: Yes, I know. Been away a long time. Work. And stuff. And running out of ideas.

PS2: The Waka Waka adaptation is not entirely original. But then, the one who came up with it doesn't blog. Not to my knowledge. Consider yourself acknowledged.

Women are bitches!

Women are bitches. Wait, why insult the bitches?

No, seriously. Can’t a guy walk down a road without being stared at, brushed upon or worse...

Just the other day, I am walking down the road, minding my own business. And first, I hear a low whistle. Then another. And before I realize, I am being followed by three absolutely loafer-type gals. It was late in the evening, and the only people around were more women. But I am a brave guy, so I turned around, took off my flat-heeled leather shoe (the only pair I have, btw) and was about to thwack one of the loafers. But thankfully, a crowd of more decently dressed women intervened and told those loafers off. Of course, some of those women stepped in only to impress me with their ‘lady-in-shining-armour’ routine, but then, what can you expect from these bitches?

I mean, c’mon, I realize I am good looking. Well-dressed of course. Smelling of success (and Set Wet Zatak!). But is that any excuse for random chicks to hit on me? Hell, don’t you have fathers and brothers at home?

And it is not just me. Ask any guy. Even the ugly ones. Yes, the same ones wearing those absolutely non-revealing loose fitting clothes to hide their paunch. And listen to their tales of woe. In fact, if I were to start a ‘full silence project’, and ask for clothes that men were wearing when they were hit upon by strange women, I am sure I would come up with a varied collection: not just speedos and bermudas and striped underwear and pink lungis with flower patterns, but even jeans (with no holes!) and formal trousers. Don’t give that excuse about the men asking for it simply by the clothes they wear! I can understand a pink flowery lungi being labelled ‘sexy’, but formal black trousers going from waist to toe! That too, with a white full-sleeved shirt!

I wish I could click a pic of every horny chick that has misbehaved in my presence and put it up on a website. If they are not staring in the general region of my crotch, they are trying to brush against my bum. Precisely why I avoid crowds as best as I can. But, being in Mumbai, how can one avoid local trains? And the darned ladies, even though they have a whole compartment to themselves, have to barge into the general compartment and abuse us? We need cops to protect us, I tell you.

And it is not just the uneducated juliets on the road. Why, even my girlfriend seems to be more focussed on getting me into bed rather than spend time talking about our future, our shared dreams, the house we will build... is sex all that you have in mind? So that you can boast about scoring with me to your gal pals while shopping for footwear?

And if one thought the parents would be more understanding, one is grossly mistaken. Why, the other day, my parents received a marriage proposal. And the girl’s mother demands that I should have a decent sized house of my own and a mid-size car before he can even consider marriage? This, from a post graduate professional working for an MNC? I told her, cattle and IPL players may be traded, not decent hard-working guys like me.

I am fed up with this female dominated world! I am organizing an underwear burning protest tomorrow. Care to join?

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PS1: Contrary to the first incredulous question that pops up in your mind, no, I was not hit upon by women. But you already know that even blind women somehow sidestep me when I walk in front of them!

PS2: Inspired from a idea given by a newfound internet friend; and an old incident during monsoon last year when I tested chivalry by offering to sit at the corner seat of the shared auto since it was pouring, only to refused by the lady (aunty?) since she didn't want to sit between two men. I realized that women would rather get wet than sit between two guys. Though how brushing one side of your butt with a stranger is any lesser of a shame than two sides still beats me, I began to look at the other species with a lot more sympathy from then on. Which means, take this as a tongue-in-cheek article and don't flame me for being insensitive :)

PS3: The 'full silence project', for those who didn't get it, is a take on something called blanknoise. A concept which I disagree with, but kind of understand why it is there.

Vadhyars perform Shashtiabdapoorthi for Indian Republic

The Vengayam

By our Ordinary Correspondent

Unconfirmed reports from an unpronounceable village in Palakkad indicate that a group of Vedic priests performed Shashtiabdapoorthi for the Indian Republic. Speaking on the condition of anonymity, Nayayana Sastrigal, the chief priest explained, "Shasti means Sishty. Yesh, the same number that comes after Pipty-nayan. Apdam means year. No, not the ones you touch when you do thoppikaranam, but the calendar one. Poorthi means completion. Turning 60 is an event of great Vedic significance."

"Swa-ha", chorused the side vadhyars who had assembled behind Narayana Sastrigal, unaware that he was not chanting mantras, but giving an interview. 

When queried about why they celebrated the event 2 whole days before the actual anniversary, the chief priest smirked, "According to our panchakam, today is the nakshtram for the event."

"Bharata varshe, shukla pakshe", the side vadhyars chorused again, at the mention of the word panchakam, before they were shushed with a glare from N. Sastrigal. 

The event gained publicity when Shashi Tharoor sent an illegible as ever tweet, "Hrd dey prfrmd a puja for India. Puja strts wid wht sounds lyk my name!", which was immediately pounced upon by the national media and splashed across the front pages with the word "Shashi Tharoor in another twitter controversy!"

A Congress spokesperson said, "I hear they even performed abhishek on a copy of the Constitution! We will not accept such watering down of the Constitution. Only Indira-ji has the right to do that! And maybe, Sonia-ji and Rahul-ji! And oh, Shashi, this is your last warning! One more wisecrack and we'll dunk you in water"

Acclaimed Hindu statesman Saajan Red said,"The Indian (Hindu) civilization is millions of years old. The Shashtiabdapoorthi should have been performed in 3200 B.C.", thus displaying his brilliant grasp of Indian history and Vedic mathematics.

It is rumoured that the vadhyars even sent a bill for dakshinai to the PMO. The PMO spokesperson refused to confirm this, but said "This is ridiculous. How can a bunch of priests perform a whatsitsname for the country and send us the bill? And that too, in triplicate!"

"Every year they do the same thing. March past, atrocious floats, security blockade on roads and President's speech. Give us credit for trying something different! And wait till we perform Sadabhishekam in 2030!" N Sastrigal had the final word!

Why am I a financier?

There are three kinds of people in this world. One, the people who know what their passion is, follow it with all their heart, and end up being mostly happy and occasionally successful. Two, the people who put away their passion, in pursuit of more practical options, and end up being mostly successful and frequently unhappy. And three, the people who have no clue what they like, accept whatever life throws at them, and end up convincing themselves that they are happy about their mediocrity.

I used to think I was in the second group, but nowadays feel I am in the third. This bit of senti thinking is triggered by a never ending week of work, where I have given up three holidays, spending long hours at office generating bullshit which I hope is 'analysis', and which is surprisingly accepted as such. Analysis, not bullshit.

Why did I take up finance? While I may have given all the right sounding answers in interviews (there has to be some reason I got hired!), the plain truth is "for lack of a better option". Ticking Finance on the b-school admission form seemed an obvious choice after a degree (and more!) in commerce.

When I look back, I see how I took a life-changing decision with a very simplistic decision making tool: the process of elimination.

I couldn't have done Operations (or Ops, as they call it). I had never seen a factory or shopfloor in my life. Machines were alien to me (ok, I knew the zipper, but then I hadn't seen the Hirani movie then!). Being closeted with a roomful of engineers wasn't very appealing. And most importantly, there were few girls in Ops. They apparently took Total Quality Control in the opposite sense. Sex stigma was their one-in-a-million mantra.Or rather, 3.4 as they would claim, but that's just more than a pi. Which, I hear, is never ending. Only after a point. Ok, my point is that there was too much Greek (and Japanese!) in this subject and not enough Latinas.

I couldn't have done Information Management (or IM). I had no Comp. Sci. background, no software industry experience. The Computer skills section of my resume read: "MS-Office". Going down that road would have meant a life of Patni (the tam word). Or rather a life without a Patni (the hindi one now!). Coding meant drawing lines. Debugging was too gross. I mean, who wants to be a pesticide all his life? Especially when you can be the pest ever in something else.

I toyed with the idea of Marketing. After all, every tom's harry dick thinks he can do marketing. Except I couldn't sell to save my life. No, seriously. You could put a gun to my head and say "My way or the Amway" and all that'll happen is I'll end up dead. With a hole in my head. And a bagful of useless products. I realized I would suck at this when my prof said "A brand is a brand is a brand!" I mean, if you have to repeat things for people, I am not the guy for it. Like I said before. The moment they started talking about a cash cow turning into a dog, I began to see stars. And question marks. Floating around my eyes.  Plus, having successfully escaped a boring small town and tackling culture shock in Bombay, the last thing I wanted to do was a shout-out for Whisper in Muzaffarpur. I decided to Stayfree of that shit. But much as I mock them, I really admire the smooth talkers who can put fake shit in a sachet and call it sham-poo.

So, that left Finance. And the promise of a jet-setting life, big fat bonuses, and wheeling and dealing. Who was to realize one would end up enjoying dragging cells in MS-Excel for 'growth' models, writing meaningless sentences like "The market is volatile" (which means it can go up, or down, but we have no clue) and haggling with lawyers over whether to use "and" or "and/or" at the end of a paragraph?

But then, such is Life...

Spammer sues 3 idiots producers for ripping off his joke

The Vengayam,
January 2, 2010

While 3 Idiots has gone on to create box office records, the makers of the film have been rocked with a 'idiotic' controversy.

A person, known only by his internet pseudonym 'Joe Spammer', has accused the makers of blatantly plagiarizing his joke on the 'NASA pen, Soviet pencil'. Speaking exclusively to the Vengayam's special correspondent, Mr.Spammer claimed he was the first person to have made up this myth and forwarded it to his friends.

"I was verbally assured by the producers that they would give me a still credit at the beginning of the film. However, when I took my mom to see the movie, she couldn't find my name in the credits. She cried a lot and  as every maa ka ladla knows, no grown man can take his mom's tears lightly," Mr. Spammer thundered. "We even waited for the rolling credits at the end of the film, even while people were stepping all over our toes on their way out. We did not move even when the cleaning boys swept up all the over-priced popcorn over our feet. And the usher was shining his stupid flashlight at our faces. And we get this! Not even a rolling credit!!!"

When asked for his comments, Aamir Khan said, "I met Spammer a month before the movie. I told him I have not read the joke since I don't check my own mails. He said it is alright, since he believed that the joke used in the movie was only loosely based on his joke. I don't know why he is reacting this way now. We should drag him to court for initiating this stupid mail forward in the first place."

Meanwhile, in Noida, Mr. Chopra, the head of the ironically named Copyright Holder Of Plagiarism and Ripoff Activities (CHOPRA) Productions, caused a controversy when he allegedly asked a reporter to shut up at a press conference. When a journalist asked him for his reactions to Mr.Spammer's allegations, he thundered, "Have you read his mail forward? I have read his joke, so just shut up." He also alleged that Mr. Spammer was just looking for publicity since people had stopped clicking on his mail forwards and were instead favouring some Nigerians.

Reacting to comments that he is allegedly doing a publicity stunt, a visibly upset Mr. Spammer said, "I am not looking for publicity, millions have read my joke in their e-mail already. Countless self-improvement book authors have picked up on it. I am already famous, but think of the poor anonymous New Zealand ad copy writer whose joke they filched." Mr.Spammer also achieved the never performed before task for linking to a you-tube video while speaking.

Unconfirmed reports suggest that Mr.Spammer has been approached by Natraj Pencils for an endorsement campaign. However, Mr.Spammer said he was not interested in winning races, and would happily join Kaballah and dedicate his life to Madonna.
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PS1: You should've read Chetan's post to understand the theme and especially the last para.

PS2: If by some mysterious internet link back, Mr. Bhagat reads this, please note that this is meant to be harmless humour, even though if it may not be funny. No offence intended.

PS3: Since I do not believe in plagiarism (unless I am buying pirated CDs of godawful films), let me list out the credits... this post is inspired by Son of Bosey style of writing. I wish I could write half as well though. And this awesome site where I picked most of the links for this post.

PS4: The pencil joke is really a myth. Says here.

Bad Pun Alert!

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Example of a good pun:


"The ‘fakhta Marathi’ directive could end up doing just that..."

from one of my favourite columnists...

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Example of a bad pun:

Q: Why does the Gujju get all orgasmic when Sachin's at the crease?
A: Coz of the master batting...

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PS1: Apologies to any Gujju bhai/ben who might feel like taking offence... please don't crash the stock market in anger.

PS2: Extremely busy days at work... but there's always time for a bad pun

Remember, Remember, the fifth of November...

How long will we stick to the Brit version, cute bald actresses notwithstanding...


So we came up with some suited to our own country...
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Congress version:

remember, remember, the last of october

when our Great Iron Lady was shot

The surds wanted a state and went to war

but our lady gave them Operation Bluestar

so now we put ads to ensure it is not forgot...

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BJP version:

remember, remember, the sixth of december

when our Loh Purush got on a rath

he wanted a mandir for Shri Ram

and so we declared it our only kaam

and on a mosque, we inflicted our wrath...

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AIADMK version:

remember, remember, the 24th of december

when our puratchi thalaivar's kidney failed

we went crazy, burning, rioting and looting

the police couldn't control us with their shooting

and finally, Puratchi Thalaivi Amma was hailed

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I would love to come up with more, but I have some serious work deadlines to adhere to... so no time to spare :(

DDLJ in limericks!!!

Yet another extremely silly post. The prospect of another 3-day weekend, coupled with some lighter workload in office, could be the possible reason behind such continued inanity.

So, sit back, give your brains some much needed rest, and enjoy... DDLJ in limericks!!!

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We open with a shot of the strict father,

his grim set face indicating some bother,

And even as he feeds yet another dove,

you know he's gonna oppose beti's love,

that's something even a novice can gather!

We cut to Kajol chasing a moving train,

you think all her running will be in vain,

at the last minute, SRK gives her a hand,

a scene so magical, you search for the wand,

but why couldn't he simply pull the damn chain?

Look, there's Kajol in a sexy cocktail dress,

oh my god, my eyes pop, this one's backless!

and as they cruise across breathtaking Europe

in some corner of my mind, flickers a small hope

maybe this movie won't be such a boring mess!

But no, SRK hams on with his irritating "Senorita"

while Kajol acts as if she's the next Ramayan ki Sita!

Well, she does dance after having too much to drink

but even then all that my bored mind could think

was that sin theta by cos theta equals tan theta!

Next we see the hero baring his romantic heart

claiming to have been struck by a Cupid's dart

but the lady claims that she is her father's pet

and hence she'll marry a man she's never met

and on this tearful (snif) note, they both part...

"Bye bye dear, remember, don't you lose hope"

while the problem seems more than we can cope...

"C'mon now, gimme a cute smile, don't look so sad,

I'll come to India and convince your mom 'n dad"

But no, we won't take the easy way and elope...

Thus, we cut to Punjab, the land of fields so green,

Mehendi, songs, dance, the typical wedding scene,

All seems lost, till the hero arrives on the farm,

and wins over everybody, with his famous charm,

even the cobra of the dad is now dancing to his been!

But to win his girl, our hero puts up a fist-fight,

as if to show this lover boy also has some might,

ah, what relief, they show (finally!) "The End"!

I stagger out, "Howz the movie?" asks the friend,

I quip "Kajol in a towel, quite an exquisite sight!"

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PS: Acknowledgements:

1. The cable guy for showing some songs of DDLJ over the weekend, thus triggering my nostalgic hatred of this movie that everyone else seems to love.

2. The evil gang of autowallahs, who refused to go where I wanted, for some reason best known to them, forcing me to walk some 40 minutes. Leading to my mind running riot.

3. An old crush, in whose memory, I had written this long back...

"When life throws up challenges that you can't cope,

remember one simple thing, there's always hope!

C'mon now, smile a little, don't look so sad,

I'll find a way to convince your mom and dad

else, my darling, why don't we just elope?

Just tweaked what would have turned into an inane senti personal post into this :)

4. Friends, who shall remain unnamed unless they want to reveal themselves, who happenned to bring up 'hope' in a conversation, leading me to dig out this long-forgotten tripe. You shall share part of the blame for this stupid post.

Career Choices...

We are so happy with the prospect of a three-day weekend that we couldn't help coming up with a totally random, totally silly post. And since three day weekends leave us feeling like royalty, we can't help referring to ourselves as 'we'.

Anyways, here goes...

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Q. What did Vijender Singh's mom say when he donned gloves for a career choice?

A. Arre yeh kya pagalpan hai! I'll have to knock out this nonsensical idea!

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Q. What did Abhinav Bindra's mom say when he refused to give up a rifle for a career choice?

A. Shoot, that sonofagun is really focussed!

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Q. What did Jeev Milkha's mom say when he insisted on picking up a golf club for a career choice?

A. I guess I have no choice but to putt up with it!

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Q. What did Vishy Anand's mom say when he politely asked if he can pick up a chessboard for a career choice?

A. I don't know, I'll have to check, mate.

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Q. What did Sachin Tendulkar's mom say when he picked up a cricket bat for a career choice?

A. Let's see, we'll have to bounce that idea with your dad and hope he doesn't smash it.

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Q. What did Saina Nehwal's mom say when she wanted to smash a shuttle for a career choice?

A. Well, I'm only afraid your dad might create a big racquet.

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Q. What did Leander Paes' mom say when he decided to make tennis his career choice?

A. Well, I was hoping you'd become a divorce lawyer, but I guess it is destined that you'll just go to court and break up with your best partner.

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Q. What did Narain Karthikeyan's mom say when he revved up behind a set of wheels for a career choice?

A. Go ahead son, I'll not stand in your way.

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Q. What did an average-no-name-Indian's mom say when he contemplated commerce for a career choice?

A. Aieee Saala, you have to do engineering.

And the boy meekly said "Jee Maa".

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PS: Couldn't resist that last dig at the engineers. As usual.

Extoll mystery spiel... or Sell mystery exploit...

Imaginary convesation among bankers...

Banker 1 (B1): Hi buddy, long time no see, so what's your bonus?

Banker 2 (B2): Not all that great! Didn't even touch six figures!

B1: What are you saying? After all, you guys slog so hard for the damn cash!

Banker 3 (B3): Yeah, and that too at a bank accused of being land scam hogs!

B2: Your bank ain't all that great either! It is accused of being an analyst monger!

B1: Yeah, and I heard your traders moan strangely every time they lose money. And all they do is rant about money and gals.

B3: Hey, our bank got no measly grant from the government. After all, unlike your bank, we did not have an abhorrent man at the helms.

B1 (looking at his Blackberry): Anyways, got to go. Loads of work pending.

B2 & B3: Bye!

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PS1: Inspired by this news. Never knew having a name which is an anagram of the place you work for makes you CEO material.

PS2: For those who are still scratching their heads, the italicized words in each sentence anagram to a bank's name. Some repeat the same bank.

Ps3: Er... the title is also an anagram. 3 words. Result of my usual goofing at the anagram solver.

The Mehendi we like... (may be NSFW)

I don't know if the friend did read the last post, but I find this in my mail box.

I have no words.

Pudhumozhi (Part II)

Excuse the lazy post, but I am running out of ideas and re-cycling old ideas don't seem that bad...

So, here goes... the uniquely Tambrahm proverbs...

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Keep your mouth shut...

And your nostril open while you do pranayamam!

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There’s no smoke...

As divine as the one from our Ganapathy homam fire!

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Laughter is the...

Best medicine, but you’ll still have to drink that kashayam!

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Practise what...

The swamigal on the Aastha channel preaches.

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A rolling stone...

Is the secret of paati’s lip-smacking chutney!

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Variety is the spice...

And that’s why we have manga thokku, narthanga and avakka oorugai.

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The grass is always greener...

In the You Ess Yay, so apply for the H1B.

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Ask no questions...

Just blindly follow what the shastrams (and the sastrigal) said.

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To err is human...

But how could you not get a centum in maths?

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Scratch my back...

I don’t want to ruin my newly changed poonal!

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PS: Once again, please bear with the recycled crap while we try to come up with something original and funny.