A night with Police Mama !!

Ya I know its been ages since I last posted, but then its also been ages since I last had enough free time up my sleeves for quoting my rhetorical brain fissures on blogger.com !!

So keeping aside the barrage of updates sparkling across my personal life, I would like to come straight to present tense. It’s been about half a year now, having left Satyam and working for Big Blue – having left my darling Mumbai, working in the Garden City of Bangalore – having left my pretty better half and living the single life of bachelorhood in this strange place…. the list is simply endless.

So came last weekend and I was back to hometown on one of my fortnightly trips. Though putting up with sweaty arm pits, putrid smells and bumpy roads in my lovely humid Mumbai, I was still enjoying with 3 nights of partying right from wed to Friday, right from Firangi Paani to Temptations, Mumbai Café to Bonobos – Mumbai never stops to surprise me. Came my last - 4th night in the city, and I decided to join my bestest pals at a house party in our usual weekend haunt – Rana’s house (though we call it Rana aka Mr Chaukanna’s house, it actually belongs to Swapneel aka Mr Paang – who has rented it to Mr Chaukanna over a matter of good will quite a few years back).. The single room kitchen house was jam packed with Mr Pang,Mr Chaukanna, Myself aka Mr fattu, Nitesh aka Mr Kallu Mama, Siddharth aka Mr Bakchoudi king… and a couple of other punters whose names I was simply too drunk to remember !!

“Whiskey in the jar” was as usual on the house. Mr Chaukanna had made some amazing Laal Murg (just for the uninitiated - apart from being daily drunkards, we enjoy priding ourselves with being masters of culinary art as well). Mr Paang was as usual at his rolling best, cleaning ghaas pus and making joints for one and all. The night was quite stereotypically imbibed with our usual rituals of having quick bottoms-up’s, DJ Chaukanna playing his favourite Punjabi numbers in between our Pink Floyd and RHCP karaoke sessions with Mr Paang on the guitar, fairly loud music and even louder drunkards making noise on a 4th floor flat with an open window – absolutely nothing seemed out of the ordinary!!

At about 2am, Mr Kallu alongwith one of the punters went out to get some cigarettes (did I mention Mumbai is a 24/7 city where you can get anything and everything in any corner at anytime – godammmmn Bangalore). Around 2.15am, we heard a knock on the door and Mr Paang sprinted up to get the door (as he is the smokiest of us all [plz don’t try to grammatically correct me on the word smokiest – it is just one of my many termed adjectives to one of my many term friends {don't even think of asking me what’s a Term Friend now}]). With a half burnt joint in one hand, he opened the door excitedly by the other. From way inside the dark room, I could see the color of his face lit up in the corridor light – turning quickly from an excited yellow (ya he looks like shit) to an angry red to a paling blue). He quickly dropped the joint behind the door as the door was pushed open by two Mama’s - (no no , not our Kallu Mama – but police mama) !!

Here is how the conversation went:
Mama1 – kay re,, kya chal rahela hai idhar? (whats going on here)

Paang (at his courteous best) – kuch nahi mama, bas dost log kaafi din ke maad milke khaa pee rahe hai

Mama 2 (touching every glass, bottle, ash tray, laptop screen, speakers with his laathi) – dekho dekho, mast bottle ke saath scene chal rahela hai – ekdam full on !!

Mr Bakchaud (sprinting up on his feet from his bed slumber) – kya kaka (i wonder how one man can be a mama and kaka of 2 of my closest friends at the same time - small world aint it?), hum toh sirf aise hi baith ke khaa pee rahe the.. kuch problem hua kya ?

Mama1 – (looking at the bottle - i could make it out that he indeed had a deep taste for whiskey) Complaint aaya hai ki idhar der raat ko awaaz ho raha hai,, ab complaint aaya hai toh action toh lena padega re baba.. (looking at mama 2) – chala re, daalo inko neeche gaadi mein, statement banana padega !!

At this time, Mr Chaukanna who is totally smashed up with a deadly mixture of weed and whiskey, awakens from his trance – slides his way next to me (where I am sitting in a shit crouching position – almost about to shit)… and says – Bhai, chal in dono ko udaa dalte hai !!

Me (looking at him with a mouth open as wide as a gargantuan whale mouth – remembering all my past drunk times with this man where he had broken pub tables, bar bottles, and subsequently his own neck – courtesy: bouncers) – Yaar Raane, this isn’t a good time for you to talk … you please keep your mouth shut !!

Mr Chaukanna – Nahi yaar, sirf do hai .. easily maarke fek denge khaadi mein !! (talking as if they were a bunch of mosquitoes squatting on our hands sipping our alcohol induced blood)

Me (trying to push chaukanna back into the bed while bakchaud and pang are trying to give some gyaan to the constables)

Bakchaud – kyaa saab (first mama, thn kaka - now saheb .. I am slightly confused with the taxonomy here), we dint know that there was a complaint, warning deke chod do, if building people would have told us , we would have not turned the speakers on – maa kasam saab !! (little did the cops know that the society has been complaining every weekend to Paangs mother for the last 3 yrs)

Chaukanna is whispering all the while “chalna dost uthna,, le na saaleko – itna gym kyu jaata hai,, le daal - mein hu na tere saath, SARKAR hai tere saath”

Mama 2 – Kuch warning baurning nahi chalega,, chalo thane aur fine bharo !!

Bakchaud (now loosing his non existent cool) – Aise kya kiya hai humne,, aapke pass warrant hai kya ki aap aise hi andar chale aaye. Kiss cheez ka fine, FIR dikhao hai toh !!

Mama 1 and 2 together (loosing their ever existent cool) – Aye pahile yala aat ghya (put him in [jail] first) … maaru kya maaru (waving his laathi in hand) ..

Seeing the laathi, Chaukanna was constantly trying to get up and move towards the thavlas (cops) ,, while I was trying my best to hold him down – verbally and physically…

Mr Paang now moves in with his smooth talker skills (ya he is a natural sales guy) – Kya sirji (mama, kaka , uncle, sirji - ek kaam , anek naam), chod do bacchon ko … (slowly pushes the cops outside the door) – and waves 2 hundred ka notes towards the cops…

Mama 1 - Paisa maanga kya tumko, paisa maanga – chalo utho re chalo gaadi mein !! Waise 1200 hai toh nikalo (arey abhi toh bola paisa nahi manga??) - warna chalo gaadi mein (Frankly, I still dint get the statistical logic of the 1200 total, was it 300 each, or was it 500 for the bakchaud , 500 for the owner and 100 each for us silent sitters – god alone knows)

Paang – Mamaji , aise nahi bola humne, but abhi gharme paisa nahi hai !!

Mama 2 – Toh ATM hai na,,, chalo bhanje (finally rishte ne najayaz se jayaz mode liya - paise sachmuch BOL-Ta hai ), ATM chalte hai !!

Bakchaud (his eyeballs and ear walls both popping out of his head at the same time) - sale kaminey thavle, terrorists ko chodke idhar baccho se vasuli kar rahe hai … (obviously not aloud)!!

Chaukanna is still trying to get up towards mama’s revolver holder.. and I am still trying to hold him down . Chaukanna whispers again – Kamine sale fattu, lena us thavle ko.. Maaya bhai hai tere saath,, Bhope bhau tere saath hai,, le daal mein bolta hu terko !! (Now am totally confused - is chaukanna Sarkaar or Maya or Bhope?)

Paang immediately calls kallu mama, who is waiting below the building as the watchman has tipped him off that cops have been in our flat since about 20 minutes now… Luckily kallu mama has 300 more and Mr Paang somehow manages to convince the cops to accept the 500 bucks and bugger off towards their next extortion destination.

Finally getting rid of the havaldars - with an air of comfort, pang comes in – pick ups his packet of ghaas and starts rolling again. Bakchaud gets up, opens the window and starts the blasting music again – offcourse without the speakers,,, Kallu mama comes in and starts asking impatiently as to how all this happened… an intense righteous debate is triggered by Mr Bakchaud on how we sustain the bribing eco-system by greasing cops palms the way we did today… Kallu tries to counter saying “sale tere north mein kya hota hai”,, Paang now licks the filter paper giving a final touch to his rocket and saying – “Mumbai mein aise hi chalta hai” .. me and one of the punters is backing Paang and Kallu saying Mumbai cops are much better than any other cops around the country, atleast they talk and not hit first,,, and keep quite for non serious offenses if you grease their palms … Bakchaud is still trying hard to argue over the now served laal murg + rice…

In in the midst of all this constant chatter – Rana Chuakanna suddenly gets up with a serious face and asks me – “Bhai, tu tere sasur ki gaadi laya hai na,, kaunsi hai?? SX4 na??” … I look at every surprised face in the room, from pang, to kallu, to bakchaud to the punters.. and I say “Yes Raane,, why do u ask” …

He gets up, starts wearing his pants and says - “Chal abhi ke abhi nikaal, full speed mein police station mein ramm karte hai…. Na rahega baja, aur na bajegi baasuri”

Unfortunately those are the last words that come out of his drunk mouth for the night, until the next morning when he said “uuuii maa” over his bruises and swollen cheeks, when his hands and feet were still tied up and we were still beating him up – all the way long - (apart from Paang who was still rolling) !!

ThE InDiaN ARraNgEd MarriAge DiasPorA !!

With the end of Shravan and the monsoon, the entire 25ish populace of this country seems to be hit by a common plague – getting engaged :).. The phenomenon seems more prevalent amongst my peer group atleast, which covers almost everyone from my kindergarten time friends, to my school and college time classmates and last but not the least – my Satyam colleagues. I wouldn’t categorize this self inflicted disease as a cupid endowed phenomenon for sure, coz for one: There is no existing love that I can fathom amongst the search hunt that takes place in mahila mandals to shaadi.com type portals to e-groups of ethnic communities; two: There is more emphasis on the Groom’s / Bride’s Resume which includes his or her career graph as well as their respective parental ethnic lineage and wealth accumulation; three: the entire fiasco seems more inclined towards love after marriage methodology.

So came last summer when we joined Satyam and that’s when it all started, I could hear guys and girls getting hitched up like an atomic chain reaction engulfing this age groups reactors within months, weeks and in some cases – even days. Within December, almost half of the MT’s that I knew in Satyam, especially girls were all set to be hitched or almost hitched. The guys, though might be seen more relaxed then their opposite counterparts, were also starting to look around trying to match up with their female colleagues. One MT guy who joined with me was already engaged to be married in a few weeks, so we could see different parcels of sweets, mobile phones, suit materials being sent to him on a weekly/fortnightly basis (which I heard was quite typical from the northern states where he comes from – though you shouldn’t call it a part of dowry, ironic eh!!). Another MT girl who was to be married in a few weeks seemed to be boasting about her fiancé’s family’s IAS and IPS origins.

So in all this hullabaloo, my pea sized brain again started to engage in fissure reactions trying desperately to figure out this Neolithic yet egalitarian concept of Indian Arranged marriages. The concept of a Deshashtha (countryside) Kshatriya or Brahmin not being allowed to marry a Konkanastha (coastal) counterpart; the different existing sub categories like GSP , Konkanastha , OBC , sonar (goldsmiths) , lohar (Blacksmiths) , chambhar (cobblers) , nhavi (barbers) and on and on :).. So living in the 21st century and boasting about globalization, I see well educated and modern parents even in Bombay bowing down to such idiosyncrasy’s and custom’s laid down more than centuries ago as per the Hindu customs. I could see a male friend of mine will always explain his bride to be based on the gifts he has received, the cumulative size of her father’s bank balance, the arrangements that her family has single handedly made for the wedding and reception, and last but not the least – the gold ornaments and GIFTs (not dowry – but gifts) that the bride will get along with her. Similarly, my female friends will always boast on the groom’s IIT/IIM backgrounds or the size of the family business (bich ka koi nahi chalega), boast about the groom’s self owned flats/ cars / US green card, boast about the different expensive restaurants he has taken her to in the very few meetings that both of them have had alone. But in all this, I never hear of the chemistry that both of them share, their likeness of ideas and similar wavelength amongst thoughts, the future planning aspect, the discussions of when to have children or rather to have them at all or not – all of it taken for granted, as if it is all predefined to go perfect in the first place.

I would like to quote one of the numerous conversations I have had with my many 25ish friends who are just about to get married. This girl was my very close friend’s cousin and is studying MBBS – 3rd year in Karnataka. I have known her for about 4 years now through a few meetings at my friend’s house as well as regular chat and orkut conversations. So here is how the conversation went:

Me: HEya,, WaSaap !! (I copy paste this and send to my all chat friends every weekend, that’s how boring my weekends have now become)
Girl: Hi Buddy, nothing much yaar – same old life; And Hows u?
Me: huh,, ok !! I am ok ok yaar..
Girl: I am getting engaged!!
Me: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?? (Almost dropping down from my chair) I thought you just said nothings new?
Girl: Yeaa, it just dropped my mind,, actually things happened so fast that I just couldn’t fathom the entire length and breadth of it (measuring it like some roadside furniture)
Me: Ohh ok,, Well – Congrats yaar.. I am happy for you (yawn,, I am so tired of repeating this line, iska bhi ek draft banana padega so I can copy paste it everytime any1 tells me that he or she is engaged) So what does he do?
Girl: Ohh, he is an IIT Powai passout and then an MS from Georgia Univ and then an MBA from NYT.
Me: Gee, I dint ask you what he did (swearing under my breathe aloud – after all it was a chat conversation). I asked you what does he do?
Girl: ohh well he works offcourse, at a very big post in a very big company.
Me : uhhhhhhh, what post and what company? (Getting irritated with the dogmatic conversation now)
Girl: I don’t know all that,,, but my cousins have met him already in the US and they have cross checked his background (mentioning it as if the sniffer dogs have finished their job and the immigrant is now ready to be stamped)
Me: (mouth wide open, so wide that 2 Garib Rath’s can parallel park inside it with more than an inch to spare) You mean to say you have never ever met him till date?
Girl: No No, not like that. We have met on Webcam. And my cousins have met him and they think he is a gem of a person.
Me: (Mouth wide open again, this time so big that an A380 can land on it without emergency breaks). Are you going to marry him or your cousins are going to marry him?
Girl: Offcourse me you duffer, why would they want to marry him? But they have done all necessary checks of our moon signs and checked our patrika and matched our stars.
Me: (still with a star gazed look of indignation on my face) Yaar but I remember very well that you hated the idea of online romance, I mean hitching with someone you have met over the internet?
Girl: Arey but I have not met him on the internet, he was chosen by my family. We chat daily on CAM and sometimes even voice chat… So here I am not going to marry him, just that he is in USA so I meet him online before we get engaged!
Me: (swearing aloud again – isn’t that the same thing??) So you mean to say you wouldn’t be meeting him before your engagement - in person?
Girl: Nahi re, how can I? But my cousins have met him naa.
Me: (Damn your cousins!! ) And what about mental chemistry?? (I wanted to add physical as well, but ahh,, what the hell)
Girl: Arey we have amazing chemistry, he calls me everyday and we chat almost twice a day!!
Me: And how long has he been doing that? (Almost guessing the answer before she could reveal the figure)
Girl: Since 5 days now :)
Me: (Tired of keeping my mouth wide open – afraid that I might start looking like The Joker from Batman .. ) Well What can I say,, wish you both a very very happy future together :)
Girl: Oh thank you, and wish you the same. I am sure you will find someone soon like I found my soulmate.. (Meaning every word of it)
Me: (Swearing again under my breathe, wanting to say: Please don’t curse me with such an indignant wish, I rather stay single my entire life. But all I could manage to say was:) Ohh thank you buddy, for these kind words!!

And there I signed out instantly so that I do not have to face that buddy of mine ever, atleast not within that day, thinking posthumously on the topic of marital bliss and the ancient curse of the arranged marriage trend – humming the epic Rape Me by Curt Cobain.

My FiGHt WiTh HaiRLoSs !!

Advancing towards my late 20’s, my herd of metro sexual brethren seems to be going through a challenging new phase: Hair Loss. Though this particular phenomenon might not exactly occur around the same age frame for all men, it surely is making our sweat glands excrete tiny drops of salty sweaty water on exactly the area where we losing the most.

As always, forming a part of these very much mortal individuals, I too started going through this painfully agonizing phase of watching my hair fall all over my body in truck loads, post every shower or at every single time I brushed my fingers through my “ohh so soft’ hair :). This inauspicious occurrence started suddenly when I shifted back to Mumbai after a year long stint in Hyd and Chn. I could suddenly see my entire bed and pillow cover being covered with zillions of hair strands spread all over, like roses on a honeymoon bed (what a cliché). I couldn’t stop thinking if my scalp had recently become jinxed under some black magic spell by one of my ex’s OR by some cupid zealot who was head over heels with my current gf.

Putting my ominous thought process at bay, I decided to try some new ground by using the facilities of one of the various trichologist advertisements that you see across the newspaper dailies. Going through a couple of ads of Kaya, Richfeel and Dr Batras, I thought I should put my googling skills to good use by checking reviews on these famous hair planters. Just a few reviews down and I was dead sure I could definitely not invest that amount of risk or money to stop something that will evidently fall off with age anyways. Then came a suggestion from one of my close friends, if visiting this famous beautician in townside – who treated most of today’s model for face and scalp maintenance treatments – . The cost she said was about 500 per sitting,with guess what, shock therapy which was definitely less than the others and so I thought was worth trying.

So on I went one fine day, leaving early from work and marching towards this new hope filled with chastity. Her clinic or parlor or spa or whatever it was called, was way far from office and hence I had to leave by around 4pm that evening. Reaching the mentioned address, I was standing in front of this huge furniture shop. Trust me, but I was literally scared at the idea of a beautician operating from within a furniture shop. A few calls and I learnt that this small shop was at the backside of the showroom, so I started walking towards it. Half way through and I saw a beautifully carved woman walking towards me, with a green monster mask on her face – chatting on her cellphone with a ramp model walk. A closer look revealed that it was not a Halloween mask but some kind of a face pack. I could see 3-4 such species around the entrance door with different colored masks glued to their invisible faces – somehow it reminded me of the hollow man, lol. ‘Ding dong’, was the sound when I clicked on the doorbell of this shop. An assistant opened the door of a room which looked like some hell hole filled with male and female creatures with an assortment of different colored facepacks and hairpacks spread around the room – all glaring at me as if it was a live show of “the close encounters of the 3rd kind”.
My friend too was one of them (whom I obviously couldn’t recognize – courtesy: her yellow colored facemask). She came upto me and said ‘Hi’ and I was almost going to shriek looking at that face. Luckily I could make out who she was by her voice. She took me in and introduced me to this gawky looking skinny and extra fair creature, ohh sorry, owner of the clinic. She gave one look at me and said with her townie accent: “Don’t worry baby, we will make it all grow back in a quarter”. I mumbled “ok, whatever!!” and came out and sat along the lesser frightening balding individuals. My turn came after almost an hour and I sat on the hot seat finally. She went through my hair, looking at my scalp like a chimpanzee hunting for lice in another ones head. After a 5 minute checkup, she said she will do her best but I have to give her time atleast twice a week, for 3 months. I started calculating the actual cost & opportunity cost like a true MBA, and checking if I can leave at 4 twice a week. I half heartedly said yes and started my treatment.
The treatment indeed included high frequency shocks given to the scalp by some small machine, followed by 2 lotions and 1 oil plastered on ur scalp making you look like some 2nd standard kid with oil flowing from your hair and side partitioned. I religiously followed this routine for about 3-5 weeks when I started noticing that my hair instead of growing was falling like never before making me almost semi bald form the top (I initially thought that it will show effects only from the 2nd month, as she said, but in vain). During my 4th week I started seeing more baldies coming to her for treatment, and some who had been coming to her for almost a year and still looking bald. After about 10 sittings, and 40% more hair loss, I decided to dive out and walk away from her treatment.

So after washing my hands off about Rs5000 and losing more hair then I ever lost before, I did learn my lesson. Never try and fight nature, it will always counter react ;) But nevertheless, I did utilize my time at the spa more efficiently than my money – making friends with as many female models as I could. So now that I am used to leaving office by 4 twice a week, I use that time more intelligently in Coffea shops with these chicks rather that that gangling Doc (they like baldies u know :P)

Boys, if you want a list with their phone numbers, do drop your personal email IDs in the comments tab ;) …..

The Friendly neighborhood RiCKshaW-MAN

Working in an internal consulting/support role in Satyam has its own benefits; you get to roam across the length and breadth of cities in which Satyam has its offices. As like my beloved brethren and peers, I too fall under the highly acclaimed level of Band S2, which allows me free train travel by AC – 2 Tier class and offcourse AUTO RICKSHAW reimbursements [which is a boon for destitute and needy people like me who come from genuinely poor backgrounds - where one travels only by AIR for intercity travels and by an AC car for intra-city travels :) ]
So let me pen down today, my experiences of Auto Driver’s, from different vocations and regions – across different metros in India.

Hyderabad Auto drivers
Gender: Male
Age: Extreme – either young or towards the elder side – hardly any middle aged men
Drunk: Almost all the time.
Meter: Depends on driver’s mood
This particular breed is the most peculiar of all others that I have personally analyzed. They will turn the meter on almost always as per their mood. The fixed fares from Station or Airport are always atleast 1.5times the usual meter fare. In the city areas like begumpet, tankbund, old Hyderabad, punjgutta,etc ; you will invariably find autos in the day taking you around on meter (however rigged they might). Best part is, even if they ask for fixed rates – they seem pretty reasonable depending on areas (like hitech, from where getting a return fare is difficult depending on the time of the day). Worst part is more than 90% of them will be floating till their eyebrows in Desi Liquor and still riding at their best in the peak hour traffic. Abusing fellow drivers and pedestrians on the road is a very special and inborn characteristic observed in these species.
Common Dialogues:
-Aaj kal kitna traffic ho gaya saab hyderbad maai, city ka ekdumich waat lag gaya..
-Abey aye (to a fellow driver), kya ch*#@ya panti chala raha hai, side mein honkein chalale – dusru ko aage jaane de na miya..

Chennai Auto Drivers
Gender: Male
Age: Mostly Middle aged (all seasoned bastards)
Drunk: Sometimes
Meter: Meter – what’s that?
The worst breed of auto drivers I have ever come across is in the southern metropolis of Chennai. Being such a huge city with magnificent roads (atleast the main roads) and a good public transport system and excellent law and order control – I still cannot fathom how come the state has not pulled the reigns of the auto-rascala’s of this city. Service industries worldwide are known for their customer oriented approach, but this line of public transport in Chennai is well known only for harassing the commuters at any time of the day (god save you if its night time). Worst part is they don’t just harass the non tamil speaking newcomers to the city, they don’t even leave the locals at peace. These lungi clad, stubble displaying, beetle teethed buggers – will charge you atleast Rs.30-40 for a distance of not even a kilometer. If it’s more than 5 kms, than the fare will simply depend on their mood with excuses ranging from climate, day time, traffic woes, night time and the list just never ends. Everytime you stop a rickshaw here, the man will immediately come next to you, you tell him your destination and he will wag his head like a laughing Buddha statue head, and then comes your turn to ask him for the fare. The price will directly be proportionate to factors like your ability to speak Tamil, skin color, clothes you wear, what building you have come out of,etc. and the best part is – if you ask them if they know hindi – they will almost readily answer back witht heir scripted reply : “Hindi nahi aata Sir”
Common Dialogues:
- What Sir, night time Sir, so much traffic Sir, only Rs 250 Sir (8kms), not much Sir..
- What Sir, morning time sir, Traffic time sir
- What sir, afternoon time sir, no return fare sir.
- What Sir, Rains sir, bad roads Sir.

Bangalore Auto drivers
Gender: Male (I have read in papers that they do have women drivers here)
Age: Between Young and Middle Aged
Drunk: Never
Meter: Yes, but 1.5 times

Though my association with this breed is quite less as compared to the ones mentioned above, I have had a brief experience with them so much as to comment or ridicule on my lovely rendezvous times with this breed as well. The few times that I have encountered them, one things has always been on a priority list of their demands – the fare that we pay will always be 1.5 times the meter amount; especially during peak hours and for distances less than 10kms. Apart from this apartheid, everything else about the auto fraternity in Bengaluru seems acceptable. You offcourse do come across a few exceptions who would be drunk or abusive or masked cheaters of the worse kind, but then that’s a national generalization found almost in every humanized part of the country.

Common Dialogues:
- Agar 1.5 times dega toh HAUDU warna ELLA J

Pune Auto drivers
Gender: Male
Age: Middle Aged
Drunk: Maybe around midnight, never seen one personally though.
Meter: Most of the times

The best thing I like about Maharashtra is that in both the big cities of Mumbai and Pune, off all the fucked up rules and regulations and bad roads and corrupt officials and MNS and poor infrastructure, atleast the METER Rules for auto’s is very religiously followed (atleast in all main city areas). Pune does have a lot of rigged meters around the city, but you may never be asked to pay more than the meter amount (unless if you are going away from the city or after 11pm). Most of these guys do engage in small talk, especially if you can speak the local language. But beware if you cannot speak Marathi, as they hate the sight of all outsiders – cursing their very presence, inspite of the fact that they are now earning a decent living just because of these outsiders.

Common Dialogues:
- Traffic kitna badh gayela hai (common dialogue across states, age , bar , gender , language)
- Kya bolneka saab, pehle ekdam lavkar pohochneka, abhi khup late hotay.
- Who paper main aayela tha na,, who chota baccha swimming pool mein Dhad kan padya ani phad kan budya (best Hindi I have ever heard, after the bihari version offcourseJ)

Mumbai Auto drivers
Gender: Male (I have read in papers that they do have women drivers here)
Age: Across age groups
Drunk: Never ever
Meter: ALWAYS

The last but not the least, is the Bambaiyya driver. Chewing on his beetle leaf and tapping his feet over the treble throbbing Himesh Reshamiya number playing on his locally re-engineered stereo; he will drive like a direct descendent straight from Michael Schumacher’s stable. Sleek as their rides are, you will see them squeezing through and zig-zagging via any smallest gaps that an eye can find even in a crowded road with a traffic standstill. The only menace they cause will be to a heart patient who cannot cope up with their belligerent speeds and to the other car/truck/bus/bike drivers on the road. But the meter part will not make any sense if you are taking an auto from the airport, for then you will be asked to cough up the luggage money (even if you are carrying just a handbag or cabin bags). That would range anywhere from Rs.20 till Rs.100, depending on your bargaining power.

Common Dialogues:
- No dialogues, only Himesh Reshamiyya songs.

This would be almost all the auto riders in cities that I have covered being in Satyam. Apart from these main ones, one can obviously also mention the smooth meter driven CNG autos from Ahmedabad, or the abusive and cheating auto drivers of Delhi / UP, or the non meter focused drivers of Nagpur; and how can I forget – the tuk tuk drivers in almost all interior cities in India.

Wherever you go, the Bajaj monopoly AutoRickshaw models might remain the same – but the riders breed will vary from city to city – affixed to an USP related to the city of his origin.
Bon Jour !!

Singur A La Rex !!

So the other day I was just walking down the lanes of Kolkatta, and there I see horde of 278643 murgis crossing the road, lead by a squint eyed Nepali looking murgi. Less outraged and more amused by the fiasco, I decided to ask fellow pedestrians on who this Nepali chick was. I was told she is Mamata Murgi, the leader of opposition of the WB state govt trying to sabotage a huge auto plant that’s coming up in nearby Singur. Upto my usual antics, I decided to interview this Mamata Murgi (henceforth referred to as MM unless specified otherwise). Here is how our conversation went:

Me: Wasaap MM, where you headed?
MM: (shouting in a nasal voice) Watch out you westerner clothed nincompoop, we are leftists – we do not speak to people of your origins.
Me: Ahh well, but this is a Kurta on jeans??
MM: Well, I was just putting forth my point, opposition ke hai na :)
Me: Ohh like that, so whats going on? Where the entourage headed?
MM: (back to her fiery nasal voice) I am Mamata Murgi and I am the leader of opposition of the TCP – Trinamool Chickens Party. We are going to Singur to appeal to the nation to stop this atrocity against poor farmers.
Me: Ohh, by we you mean this entire poultry farm of 278643 murgis?
MM (Surprised): wow, how did u manage to know our exact strength?
Me: I have excellent eye brain coordination you see; I have an IQ of…..
MM: (cut me off midway) Ya whatever, I have to go and do more important things now, rather than listening to your self-acclaimed qualities you punk. We are going to give justice to the farmers of Singur.
Me: (getting back to my interview posture) Well correct me if I am wrong, but hasn’t the state govt already given justice to the landowners by paying about 8 lacs for non irrigated and 13 lacs for irrigated farms? And I heard about 80 % of the owners are satisfied with this package, apart from few landlords who are under your payroll as well as a bunch of illiterate farm laborers?
MM: Ahh .. wEll … ummmmmmmm… (After pausing for about some 343 years) You still don’t get the point my lad, the govt has snatched the land from the desolate poor farmers?
Me: ohh you mean the erstwhile poor farmers, cos by now they are all mini lakhpatis for sure as no1 owned anything less than 5 acres. Plus now that the monolith plant is here, there are hundreds of ancillary units and indirect employment on the way for the farmers and their kin – who I have heard are getting reservations in these jobs. So isn’t it a sone pe suhaga offer, get cash for your land and plus steady jobs?
MM: Ahh,,, well .. ummmm (this time pausing for only 3 years) No but you don’t get the picture comrade. Tata got free land, Tata got free water, Tata got free tax, Tata got free license, Tata got everything free at the cost of the poor farmers who LOST their land?
Me: If one gets paid 3 times worth for something they lose, how have they technically LOST it? Wouldn’t it be voluntary selling? And forget the subsidies that TATA has got, wouldn’t this be one of the biggest manufacturing facilities in the country launching a globally awaited vehicle which will soon fill your state coffers by indirect tax and generate millions of employment opportunities?
MM: Ahh.. well.. ummmmm (without a break). No but the poor farmer is losing his land and we as the members of opposition will OPPOSE the state governments move to vacate farm owners, it’s our fundamental right to oppose.
Me: (Bi*#@….. no wonder others are withdrawing from WB too). So just for endorsing your right to oppose and to get political mileage for your party, you are uprooting one of the best opportunities that the people of WB are about to get and loot them of their one chance at progress?
MM: No no, I will fight for the farmer and make the govt fall and then get elected and work for the benefits of WB people.
Me: And how will you do that, the same way you manhandled your position as a Railway Minister in 2000?
MM: No no, that was a learning experience. I will become chief minister and open employment opportunities by welcoming corporate to open plants and give them subsidies to invest more in our homeland so that we become a rich and prosperous state.
Me: (Mouth wide open),,, So why are you opposing now? Isn’t this the aim of the current state govt too?
MM: no no, it is by THEM, not by US. We are the members of opposition and it is our fundamental right to oppose and we will help the lakhpati farmers,, ooops, I meant poor farmers to bring them out of their desolate condition and elevate their prosperity and………

BANG BANG

Tired of repeat telecast of scripted bhashans, Vishal pulls out a .32 and shoots Mamata Murgi splattering chicken brains all over the place. Seeing this, the 278643 murgis start chasing Vishal through the new highway developed for the Singur Plant. But apart from having good eye-brain coordination, Vishal is also an excellent athlete and hence sprints away from the crowd within a jiffy. Watching Vishal disappear, the leaderless chickens stop chasing and start following Murgi Mukherjee for his new campaign in Nandigram.

Reaching his room, Vishal forgets the fiasco and calls up buddies to join him for a beer with Chicken Starters at Hard Rock. Humming to “we don’t need no education” in the background, Vishal enjoys the sumptuous Poule-Ala-Rex.

p.s: No chicken was harmed in the writing of this blog. Although the author wanted to harm certain Bengali’s; But getting past the Z+ security was too much of a hassle.
For the uninitiated, Poule-Ala-Rex is a continental chicken dish.

Politics of Regionalism - The Sons of the Soil Campaign!!

Just a fortnight back, as a part of my 3 day countryside trip, I took my first pit stop in Pune. Feasting on the small and sweet meal made by my friend there, I heard upon a gory tale which happened to my friends roommates BF in Pune. This guy, hailing from north India, was studying MBA in one of the many edification institutions in this so called Oxford City of PUNE – a melting point of students from different cultures and backgrounds. About 2 days back from the day I visited, the guy in question had just dropped back his gf at her house and was biking it back to where he stayed at around 1am (I guess the usual time to finish a movie night at our age). Just nearby his house, he was stopped by a tiny mob of drunken locals. The first thing they asked him was where are you from? The guy, quite overpowered by the sheer size of the group, in utmost nobility uttered his origins. As soon as they heard about his Northern background, one person removed his bike key while the other pinned him down to the ground. They asked him if he has any money on him, all the while using derogatory remarks about his family and roots. They asked him if he could speak Marathi, for which he again replied in a negative. They kept poking and manhandling him and asking him to learn Marathi and speak in the native language. Outnumbered that he was, the guy fought back with words after a point where he could not stand humiliation spat against his family (including the worst possible swears on his sisters and mother). One of the guys simply picked up a huge rock (with both hands – so try and gauge the size of the stone) and hit the guy on his head a few times. Leaving the guy in a sticky pool of his own blood, they casually walked away as if a GAME OVER sign flashed on the video game they were just playing. The poor guy somehow lifted himself up and took a rick to the nearest hospital and crashed at the entrance.

Seeing him lying in his ICU bed today, still in an unconscious state, his parents are still appalled at the outrageous face of the Maharashtra “Marathi regionalism” politics. The boy did not even ever wantingly participate in Politics, nor had he ever chosen any sides of right or wrong, or displayed and inclinations or apathy towards any local political party. But he was still a part and victim of the new “Sons of the Soil” campaign started by a desperately novice politician. Is this the wholesome picture you painted Mr. Raj – a massacre of innocent students at the hands of locals, who motivated by your fiery speeches about “Marathi Manoos”, taking law and order and justice in their own drunken hands?

Being a Marathi manoos myself, I simply cannot comprehend the motive behind your ramleela gimmicks. I remember your uncle retorting to similar tactics with his lungi hatao pungi bajao andolan against the south Indians in the 1960’s. That decade’s old campaign had still certain characteristics to it, as all the businesses in the state capital were controlled by gujrathis/marwaris and all white collar jobs by South Indians. The locals welcomed your uncle’s efforts to secure jobs in banks and PSU’s as a fight for survival agitation. But what is the exact motive of your stunts Sir? What do you intend to do by forcing the entire labor class out of the financial capital and the most industrialized state in India? Are your brethren and party activists ready to accept jobs currently being run by these so called UP bhaiyya’s and biharis? Will a Marathi man in his utmost sense of dignity ever drive a taxi or run auto rickshaws in numbers that the north Indians runs them in Mumbai today? Are locals ready to accept linemen jobs in mtnl, make and sell chat on roads, take up worker and laborer jobs in construction sites and state wide MIDC’s and industrial units? Are you aware that just a single EXODUS caused by your campaign led to fleeing of about 25k laborers from Pune and 15k from Nasik? The state had a loss of 500-700 crores with this loss of laborers, the construction for 2008 commonwealth stadium was on a standstill, industries in Nasik and Pune were at a standstill, and all this do you think was for the benefit of the state? Running with a torch of Marathi culture, your party activists were reported forcing premium convent school principals to admit their respective wards in these ENGLISH speaking schools (funniest incident of them all). Why are you and your party activists shy of taking admission in Marathi medium schools while running a statewide Marathi propaganda? Moreover, I seriously doubt your attendance in whichever school you have studied at during your education (assuming the fact that you studied at all), as I was specifically taught in my school that "India is not an association or confederation of states, it is a union of state and there is only one nationality that is Indian. Hence every Indian has a right to go anywhere in India, to settle anywhere, and work and do business of his choice in any part of India peacefully." And what are you creating the ruckus for, wasn’t your own father a student in Madhya Pradesh? I so badly pray that you are thrown back in time into your past and you and your family suffer the same treatment by Madhya Pradesh locals having a problem with your origins. Like every other person in Mumbai, din’t you Thackerays too came to Mumbai for jobs two generations ago? You absolutely have no right to assault those coming to the financial capital in search of livelihood. Please go back and read your grandfather Prabodhankar Thackeray’s autobiography which clearly mentions your fathers (Srikant Thackeray) and Bal Thackeray’s MP origins and school time days. He has clearly written about how he travelled to other states for livelihood. “This proves that the Thackerays, who are not original inhabitants of Mumbai, came to this city in search of a livelihood”, so then what in God’s name are you bragging about? Being a Maratha myself, I strongly object to your pathetically desperate tactics to gain media attention. I will be truly glad if the Election Commission bars your very entry in the elections for polluting national unity and causing nationwide disharmony on the basis of religion.

(On a lighter note) Thinking about this entire fiasco, my pea sized brain habituated with the fissure reactions caused by such topics, entered into yet another chemical altercation causing me intense stress and gastric complications one full night. With so many chemical momentums inside my frail physical frame of the brain, I was lost into a Jim Morrison style trance, in deep solitude dreaming of the entire situation 10 years down the line. I see a scene where the entire Mumbai metropolitan region is now devoid of its immigrants, the sons of the soil campaign has taken a very serious toll on the life in Mumbai and all the non Marathi speaking people have now been asked to leave the island city. Walking by the crowded marine drive pavement, I see men in dhotis and Nehru caps alongwith their navvari (nine yard saree) clad women, dirtying the already wasted pedestrian walkways. I see bullock carts running on the marine drive 6 lane road instead of the old Porsche cayenne’s, Maybach’s, SUVs and other luxury cars. There on a big wall I see a poster of LATE MNS Cheif, the founder of NAVNIRMAN MUMBAI – the new name for the Metro. As I pass by the poster, the chieftain winks at me from the poster and calls out to me. Here is how our conversation goes:
Poster: Hey you, Boy… Wasaap .. Kasa kay pahuna !!
Me: Huh… who , where , why , how ? (mouth wide open looking at a guy in the poster talking to me .. a mosquitoe comes and lays its eggs,, the new baby mosquitoes fly out and my mouth is still wide open)
Poster: I am talking to you re porga,, who else ?
Me: uhhhhhhh, how can a poster talk to me (mouth still open)
Poster: I am not a poster you fool, I am the Late R__j T________y . (for the uninitiated, kindly read between the lines)
Me: ohhh , when did you get late ? I mean become late? Ohhh sorry, ,I meant when did you achieve martyrdom (trying to use my words carefully so that I am not thrown out from the city)
Poster: Ahh that’s a long story,,, forget all that. You tell me – how do you like the new place? Beautiful isn’t it? (Grinning happily from ear to ear)
Me: (making a popeye face with the stench around me) Well I haven’t seen much of it somehow, I am just back after a 10 year sabbatical to the city. But tell me one thing, where are the clean pavements gone? And why are there only bullock carts on the road?
Poster: (looking here and there to check if anyone is hearing into our conversation) well my boy, don’t tell anyone. But what happened was that I initiated a very intense campaign and brought 100% reservations for Marathi manoos in Mumbai and then in Maharashtra. Slowly all industries closed down. All IT firms have shifted down south,, Automobile has gone to Gurgaon and Chennai , Stock Exchange has shifted to Ahmadabad , port has closed down and nothing is left but old memories of the financial capital (trying to look happy at the sound of it)
Me: Whaaaaaaaaaaat !! (mouth closed once was again open with another GASP – I never personally remember having that stoned speechless look on my face in the 25 years of my existence, apart from the last time when I met Mona Lisa). So what are people in Mumbai doing?
Poster: ohh they are back to farming, suburbs are now empty and people have shifted to the island city – which is sinking by the day, suburbs have been converted into farmlands and agriculture is the new occupation (grinning happily again from ear to ear)
Me: Agriculture is new? I thought it was old means of making money.
Poster: ohh no no, they don’t make money with it, that’s only to sustain your 1 time food requirement
Me: one time? (I don’t remember eating anything less that 5 meals a day since my nappy days, ya ya - you can call me the mini kumbhakaran of sorts ..)
Poster: (with a candid look, which reminded me of my MBA days where my fellow students desperately tried to make the professor believe in their presentations) ohh yes, they do not have enough food for having more than one meal a day; Rest of the day they spend in the farms.
Me: (mouth is still open , the mosquitoe family has by now quadrapled in numbers) but you still haven’t answered me where are the cars gone?
Poster: Arey vedya,,, 80% of pvt cars were owned by nonmarathi people, so they took it away with them. The remaining cars were either sold or burnt in riots caused by my supporters (I see a grim look on his face for the first time during this conversation). It started with shutting down of industries as the labor class went away. Then it started with shutting down of petrol pumps, restaurants, roadside stalls, vegetable bazaars, dhobi ghaat, everything just collapsed one by one. In a bid to save the culture, I have sacrifice the economy of Maharashtra. But look at the bright side, you can see Marathi sign boards everywhere, Marathi people everywhere, isn’t that a lovely sight?
Me: (getting very very very irritated, yes yes normaly i am a very peace loving person) Excuse me, by lovely sight are you referring to the dirty streets , the dung infested pot holed roads inhabited only by bullock and horse carts, dirty beaches filled with human filth and feaces?
Poster: ohh I forgot to mention, the cleaning class in Mumbai also disappeared as well as the laborers who mended the roads :)
Me: Ohh great, sone pe suhaga offer – mighty deed you have done Mr Marathi Hitler? You have led to a comfortable Balkanisation of the entire state under your watchful eye (feeling miserable about my existence in the city of stench). And where have the rich Marathi people disappeared?
Poster: ohh them?? Those gaddar buggers have all left the city and state to other states which offer them better avenues for business. All white collar idiots like you have also crossed state borders and are working for various companies in these other rich states offering them job opportunities. But they forgot how badly we had made the immigrants flee from the state, and now they are suffering atrocities at the hands of locals from the other states.
Me: (smiling for the first time during this conversation, with a closed mouth.. yeaa i swallowed the dam mosquito khandan) So you mean to say, the only Marathi people who were the last chance to build the Maharashtra economy have fled out due to your Sons of the Soil Campaign, and are now facing threats, manhandling and mayhem from the locals there all at your cost? The very culture and people you tried to uplift are now at the receiving end of the massacre you started and have no choice but to accept it as it is? The entire state is back to its civil war days of the British and is dirty like a garbage dump just because of your desperate requirement of votes and getting elected and media attention? The full country is reaping benefits of globalization and people here do not even have food to eat?
Poster: (finally confessing the truth) Why do you think I committed suicide? Now you know how I became the LATE MNS chief. I realized that the prank I started to remove the uttar bhartiya people from Maharashtra, as uddhav had started wooing them for voting towards shivsena, had turned completely upside down. I became blind with the media attention and power. Lalu was right when he quoted that I was very young at politics and just a novice. Now even after death, satan is not ready to accept me in hell – scared that I might try and play division politics even down there. Heaven ka toh chance hi nahi banta :( ... and I am stuck in this small poster ever since, singing only one song 24/7 – Jayee toh jayee kahaaaa :(.....
Me: (Gasping with surprise, burping out a few mosquito wings) Serves you right you moron. Don’t you find it ironic to humm hindi songs when you were dissenting the very people who spoke this language?
Poster: (seeming oblivious of my existence, he starts humming his song again) Jayee toh jayee kahaaaa….Jayee toh jayee kahaaaa….

I start Walking ahead on the pavement, and instantly hear a loud crack and a thundering sound of a lightning. I see a big ray of light striking the poster and the leaders soul being drifted towards the sea. I assume the fact that he pleaded to his sins has led to the mukti of his soul. God bless him !! (yeaa i do feel pity on dead people at times, what the heck)

“Lavkar utttth kartyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa , 9 vajlee” (get up u punk, its 9 am) – said my mom turning on all the lights in my room, making it look like the flash of light I just saw in my dream. I guess I had forgotten to put on my alarm the previous night in this entire thinking chaos (As thinking as an activity comes to me very very very rarely). God I need to rush to office now, my RM had just yesterday sent a mail to be in office dot by 9am and call him if there was even a 5 min delay. Looking upwards and praying to god, I called my RM:

Me: Sir,,,,, something came up last night and I could not get up on time and … I am really sorry.. but I will be late to office today !!
RM: ohhh, someone is seeing a lot of dreams are they? You better reach office by 10am or else you are on LOP today …. Hurrrrrrrrrrrrry up now !!

And thus ended my dream endowed night right below the shower, hurrying up to reach office on time, thanking god that IT still existed and what I had seen was just a dream. Looking at the shower panel, I started humming my fav song…. “Dhaga la lagli kala,, paani themb themb gala”… (the clouds got a pain, water is leaking drop by drop) …. :)

WhaT mAKes MoNa LiSa SMiLe?

(Excerpts and style of writing adapted from ROHANs blog on blogspot.com. Rohan you ROCK !!)

The other day I was just leaving my Tidel Park office and bumped in to a stylishly dressed foreigner lady. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: “Ahoy, watch your stride gurly; u could have just crushed me there?”

Lady: “Buzzer Off looser!!”

ME: (Staring in her face) “I think I have seen you somewhere?”

Lady: “Yeaa, Whatever” (disgruntled)

Me: “No I am serious. (With a startled look) Ohh wait a minute, aren’t you Alanis Morisette?”

Lady: “Alanis Who?” (Looking with contempt)

Me: “Alanis Morissette DUH….. The gr8 Singer, songwriter, actress, record producer??”

Lady: (Completely irritated now) “Look buddy, I don’t give a horse’s s#*$ if I look like some Neolithic singer, I am MONA LISA”

Me: (staring silently in disbelief – silence for the first time in 24 years of my worthless life, it had never stopped since the time that sexy nurse patted me on my back to start breathing).

Lady: “If you are done with your contemptuous blabbering, can I take your leave?”

Me: (Still staring in disbelief) “You mean The Mona Lisa of the Da Vinci Fame? What in GODs name are you doing here?”

Lady: “Are you always so thick?” (Incensed)

Me: “Naa I am thin and athletic?” (Coolly)

Lady: “No you dumbass, I mean are you always so questionable and irritating to every stranger you meet?”

Me: “Don’t know? But my gal keeps saying the same thing…… Am I?”

Lady: “No wonder!!”

Me: “What?”

Lady: “Ohhh,, Never mind !!”

Me: “So what are you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be like dead centuries back?”

Lady: “Ohh I keep descending to earth from the heavens every now and then!! Take a week off or so from my political career up there and chill out on earth!!”

Me: (Mouth wide open, so wide that Michael Phelp could do multiple summersaults and dive in it winning the best swimmer accolade all over again) “Political Career?? Up in the heavens?”

Lady: “Ohh well yea, I was designated a GODDESS few days back. Where do you think all these gods n goddesses come from? These are just souls of erstwhile human’s ascended upto the heavens and later show good PR around the place (winks). Are you getting my drift?”

Me: “Ohh you mean like the CR of the class? Yea Yea, we used to do the same in our B-School too!!”

Lady: “You pervert moron, is that the only level to which you can relate GODs supreme court. Forgive him lord for he has sinned (starts blabbering some hymns)

Me: “Ohh never mind all that, I have a Business Class reservation to HELL, have tried wiping my sins in the holy Ganges, never worked tho ;)” (Blushing like a 12 yr old guy in love for the first time). “So there are Goddesses along with GODs too (winking)? I thought the Catholic Church was quite a male dominated society?

Lady: “Yes you mortal fool, times have changed. If the likes of Indra Nooyi (PepsiCo) and Kiran Muzumdar (Biocon) can lead corporate strides, than why can’t we have goddesses in heavens? It’s called the equality of the gender you Chauvinist creep!!”

Me: “Ahh well ok. So if there really is a GOD and a GODs court as you name it, then why all the miseries on Earth?”

Lady: (Furiously yelling now) “Have you ever heard of Yin and Yang, positive and negative? There has to be a balance. Moreover you think we can keep accommodating new souls and catch up with the human fatality index? What we do is recycling and reuse. People who have sinned or done well in their past lives are given bad and good lives respectively in their rebirth!!”

Me: “On that explains the latest Om Shanti Om flop (winking again), where you guys involved in delivering such a psychotically pricking topic causing us mortals gastric uneasiness accompanied with a nauseatic feel for upto a week post watching that movie?”

Lady: “Yes we did, haven’t you heard of SIGNS, we keep dropping such hints time and again to make people keep their faith in GOD and his miracles”

Me: (Bored with the entire spiritual hullabaloo). “Ah well ok…. So what brings you to Chennai?”

Lady: “Ahh that, well I heard this Saravanas and Pothys have some amazing Indian ethnic wear stuff!!”

Me: (Staring at her from head to toe, from her Gucci jacket to her D&G Skirt) “But aren’t you supposed to be dressed like a goddess?” (Gosh Girls I tell you, won’t stop shopping even after their death)

Lady: “You insensible pervert, if the Devil WEARs a PRADA, why cannot a goddess wear a Gucci?”

Me: (Mouth wide open again, this time for so long that 2 flies enter and come out after their sabbatical honeymoon with their grandchildren)

Lady: “Dude I really need to take your leave now, have a lot of shopping to do before I get back and start promoting for my latest electoral campaigns. We are planning to raise the latest BUSH is an antichrist issue (http://www.bushisantichrist.com/) which is our only way to topple the present party in power. The destruction that he has brought upon you mortals is worth more than your simply battling your eyelids after watching a Bush related news item. Trust me bro, Judgment Day will be unleashed upon Earth soon if that Satan isn’t pulled out of power. We have to stop this Blasphemy!!”

Me: “Hey Mona, my vote anyways won’t count for your campaign, so save ur breath for your electoral debut!!”

“Waise Mona Darling, what plans for the night, Aati kya khandala (winking again)?” (yea yea,, that’s so typical of me, being in the socially unexciting IT field, to start asking out any gal who talks to me for more than 5 mins and leads me to think that she’s interested in moi)

Lady: “Sorry Buddy, dating a mortal will affect my repute in my campaign, now onwards I date only GODs. Waise you are cute too (winks for the first time, mera dil pura paani paani ho jata hai), wish I had bumped into you when I was just a GHOST!!” (Now that certainly stimulates my male hormones, dating a GHOST, wow man,, that’s something I am yet to try. I start imagining a family with cross bred kids between human and ghosts, just like Ali in Dhoom)

Me: “ok… just one last question before you leave Mona Darling. What made you smile in Leonardo’s Portrait?”

Lady: (starts giggling and blushing like a 20 yr old). “Well that really was a well kept secret till I was alive. If you notice, I am wearing a maternity gown in that pic, I was actually pregnant during those days (blushes again).

Me: “What you saying, I heard you were a perfect pictured Virgin of those days. And pregnant with whose child.. Ohh now don’t tell me it was Leonardo, I very well remember reading he was a GAY!!”

Lady : (Giggling again) .. “Well Leo was indeed a bisexual and not a GAY per se as churches referred to homosexuality as blasphemous and he was quite the Pope’s favorite. He actually thought that I had conceived from him and was hence dedicating that portrait to me and swore on GOD that he would make it a world famous painting. GOD took it so personally that inspite of its worthless character and no-meaning looks, it really became a world famous painting.”

Me: Ahh ok,, that does sound farfetched, but my question was What Made you Smile?

Lady: “Well I was smirking because I and only I knew that the child was Dan Brown’s who was a petty peasant back then and not Da Vinci’s. It was one of the best kept secrets, more secretly kept than the Holy Grail story mentioned in Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code which he wrote in his Re-Birth.”

Me: (mouth wide open again, this time so wide that I can fit an entire rat colony from Chennai in it)

Lady: “Ok bye sweetheart, hope to see u in heaven sometime” (winked and jus flew upwards towards the Great Light shining from the SKY)

Me: “In your dreams you immortal goddess!!” (Was the last line I said and continued by stride singing just a girl in a wolf suit by Alanis Morisette) `

Just then my alarm bell starts ringing with its Choli Ke Peeche kya hai tune… (Yea that’s the only song that can wake a kumbhakaran like me and make me leap out of my bed. Sorry to be so candid ladies, but GOD did biologically design us with an excessive level of Testosterone. So stop giving us adjectives like DOGs and PIGs)

p.s : (For the uninitiated, Dan Brown is the author of the book DA VINCI CODE which is a fictional story about Christ’s real story and it does mention that Leonardo Da Vinci was a Gay!! So no hard feelings towards anyone; and if someone indeed found this post offensive, they can kiss my A@# ;)!!

No Frills Approach !!

Looking at the successful completion of almost half a decade now by our first no frill player Air Deccan in India, I always used to ponder if this same concept will work correspondingly for all service industries. All consumers want the topmost levels of service at the least cost. The only way to reduce cost is to automate and reduce on manpower. But if there is no delivery of a particular service via human means, then how can you define it as a service? But then when I really gave it time and researched, I realized the concept of no-frills has always existed, especially in India since quite a long time now. The only hitch was, that it was never termed as No-Frills per se.

May it be modern private banks that emphasize on the use of ATMs, Internet Banking or Cheque Drop boxes vis a vis the traditional methods of retail banking; or may it be the Indian Railways that have now started the Garib Rath (Rajdhani level comfort at Paschim level cost) as well as introducing of e-tickets or kiosks; or may it be the traditionally existing Guest Houses or Youth Hostels that provide the bare minimum comforts of a shelter minus of a porter/room service/travel desk/etc; or may it be the booking of online tickets for an early morning show which does not have any attendants or food counter – just a plain simple movie; or may it be the booking of hotels online. The Indian airline sector has maybe just adapted to the No Frills phenomenon, but the concept is seen to be trying to creep into the Indian service sector since a long time now. One may call it automation or modernization, but the fast is it is a more convenient service offered to the cost conscious Indian consumer on a decorated platter.

As I am a graduate in Hospitality, I would like to comment on this topic from the Hotels Point of view. Come travel time and India's middle class faces a problem that's as typical as it is common: finding hotel accommodation that's safe, clean, comfortable, and most importantly, affordable. More often than not, they have to compromise on one parameter or the other. We have all heard of the Indian Hotels Company (Taj Group) have launched their FIRST No Frills Hotel – IndiOne. IndiOne is positioned to meet the need for what it terms 'smart basics' accommodation. Targeted at budget travellers and tourists, indiOne offers an innovative hospitality model where the emphasis is on delivering quality hotel rooms at low cost.

I think this concept will just rock in India, imagine middle income group professionals like us, low budget travelers, pilgrims, backpackers, all asking for affordability, hygiene and safety on the one hand, and informality, stylishness, warmth and modern amenities on the other. I mean just book a room on the net, go to the hotel lobby and swipe the same card in a vending machine that prints out your gate pass and electronic-key, just go the room carrying your own luggage, no porters, no reception, no room service, just plain simple ROOM’s. Where security issues like entry registers and identity is concerned, that can always be traced from the credit card details (name/address/age/gender). I do not know how many of you fancy this idea, but I think it will surely be a new way of automation of your SERVICE EXPECTATIONS taking the Indian service industry to new echelons of success at the same time providing consumers like you and me a completely satisfying product.

ANY INPUTS ON THE SAME OR ANY OTHER INDUSTRY?