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) …. :)