Digital Colours - The Eye

Digital Colours - Autumn

Where Am I from?

I usually get into spells of immense thinking. It's like a phase, where  my left brain and right brain have conversations that ultimately give me a backache. Blame it on Acupuncture. (That Pin poking thingy)

It was in one of these sessions that I was absolutely convinced that in a previous birth I must've been a driver of some sorts. Taxi or Auto, but one of the two for sure. That must be the reason why I keep meeting so many drivers with so many interesting stories to tell, which make me go "Ahaaa" to which the driver promptly replies "Kai zala?" in Marathi.

Anyways, the topic of today's brain freeze conversation is "Where am I from?"

There are these standard questions that people ask you and you promptly have an answer pop into your head. Visually at least.

For e.g

Q - Hey Whats up
A - Nothing, you tell.

Q - What's your favorite colour?
A - Blue / I don't know

Q - Who's hotter? Anushka or Deepika?
A - Megan Fox / Angelina Jolie (By God's grace at least now she will retire from those buhledy worlds hottest lists)

Q - I have Scotch and Vodka, what will you have?
A - Do you have beer?

Q - Saw any movies recently?
A - *Image of that movie that friend of your friend gave you on that pen drive that everyone's been sharing* No.

Q - Kya Aapke toothpaste main namak hai?
A - Haan saale, Sambhar powder bhi hai, khayega kya? (Rhetorical, am not offering)

Q - Where are you from?
A - Err. Heard of Shimoga? How about Mangalore? Karnataka? Yes am a Madarasi, Thank you.


Truth be said, I have been around. Spent an equal amount if time in the Gulf, in Udupi/Manipal, at Bangalore and now what looks like its going to be quite some time in Mumbai. While I borrowed a lot from them, none of them has left a mark that's deep enough to be called home.

For example, I loved the places in Manipal that I used to spend so much time at with my friends. In Bangalore it was all about enjoying the lovely weather and the ease of travel (Yes come to Mumbai, it's like going to space in a cycle rickshaw) Bahrain was all about school time memories. And now Mumbai, well we're just getting started.

I don't think I've ever answered the question about "Where are you from?" in one line.

The most recent being my explanation to an Expat that India is divided into "Zones" depending on what people eat. Idlis? - Madrasi. Chaats? Mumbai. Momos? Definitely from East (Don't even have a place) and Tandoori chicken. Delhi. If you eat bullets and bombs, probably way up north in "Paradise on Earth"

Just FYI, I like all the above. Am like the public buffet that everyone eats free off and then cribs - Definitely Indian.

Anyways, Next time someone asks me where am from, I guess I'll just say that. Indian.

Cheers
M

The Truth behind the SRK Controversy

As you may have heard recently, King Khan has been asked to shift home base to across the border in case he felt unsafe in India. This invitation came from a leader of a organization of "questionable"* repute*

( Repute* refers to "media"/"Don't-kill-me-am-quoting-Wikipedia" lingo for an organization that has been  marked as a terrorist outfit by USA, UK, Russia, Australia, European Union, United Nations and the leader who has a 10 million dollar bounty on his head in one of those US Terrorist Bucket lists.

*Questionable refers to his patrons who STILL say there is no proof against him and that they cannot arrest him. These are the very same patrons who said we are fighting terror and are absolutely sure that Osama was not hiding there, till the US came and shot Osama bin Laden in their own back yard)

Sorry for the detour. Where was I? Ah yes SRK shifting and all.

Honestly if this offer had come after Ra One, I wouldn't of thought twice of packing this fellow off, just for putting us through that scene with Arjun Rampal. Yes, "that" scene. But the songs were Okay, and I had good laughs for a few months, so you are forgiven.

In midst all this controversy, in comes the now famous for his foot-in-mouth comments, the inferior interior minister who says he is concerned about SRK's safety. To put in mildly - Why don't you sniff up who's blowing up people in your own country instead of worrying about our citizens, eh? Are you seriously saying that of all the people who elected you as a politician (God alone knows why) in your country, you are bothered about a celeb in our country? Very Suspicious, wouldn't you say?

Also, the minister says he wants to remind us and I quote, "I would like to request all Indian brothers and sisters and all those who are talking negative way about Shah Rukh, they should know he is a movie star."

Umm...Yes you Idiot, he is a movie star. We've seen from his stuttering days to his current stretch-my-arms-and-romance days. However, may I remind you, he is an Indian first. Also, we are not your brothers and sisters, at least am not. How about you pay a little more attention to all the "negative" shit you guys are doing at the LOC, before you come barging in on Bollywood like you barge in across the border every now and then?

Come to think of it, I would have made a counter offer to some of your people to come here and stay safe, especially those famous leaders who are declared terrorists globally, but of whom you seem to have no proof. They could live in Tihar and have world class Biryani. That Kasab fellow must have written to you guys no? Oh wait, I forgot. You abandoned him to die the moment he left your borders.

Frankly, looking at all the above, I think this is all related to with one thing, and only one thing.

Keep your grubby hands off SRK. He will not dance in any of your weddings.

Cheers
M

PS - Try Saif, after Race 2, he'll probably need it.

Welcome to 2013

Hello there!!!

I see that you have survived the Mayan end of the world and moved back into the continuing, modern-man-made end of the world. I hope you had a great new year, full of alcohol, mad partying, and crazy fun like Rahul Baba had till he was actually "given" a "position" of responsibility in a party that his family has basically founded.

I hope you get the Rahul Baba inference. I can actually name him, its not that am scared or something, but...err...I don't want to DIE.

Or be arrested under some IT law and then having to put you all through ARNAB's - THE NATION WANTS TO KNOW....etc.

This year so far has been amazing. Seriously, can you imagine having to feel cold in Mumbai? In End January? Ever? Spicy Vada Pav's and Chai have never felt so rewarding.

Of course I wouldn't know since I wake up after the sun is pretty high up there, but I have heard from reliable sources. Like my watchman who is dressed in 4 layers of clothing and makes some saluting hand gesture when I cross. Or maybe he's trying to find his eyebrows under 2 mufflers, 1 monkey cap & 2 skull caps.

Meh. (That's twitter lingo for whateva, which is hip talk for whatever)

Also discovered was Hamley's Toy Store. I spent a total of 3 hours there and got into a fight with a 10 year old on a Lego block set that I had my sights on for like 17 years. After taking it while the kid was distracted, I had to walk all around the store to avoid attention for 2 hours. These kids today have no sense of respect for elders at all. I wonder how his parents can leave a kid in a toy store unsupervised like that. Yelling and Shouting and throwing all the things for a silly Lego block set. You'd think these kids would act more matured.

Anyways, I spent new years with my parents for a change. (A big change, it's been like 15 years) No Internet, no mobile connectivity, home made food, Dad's barbecue, some books and a cat that thinks that I'm a big pillow, for company. Quite a change from previous years. I also have deviated from tradition where I had a cribbing disappointing heartbroken narration of my achievements of the previous year.

And before you know it, you're at the end of month 1 in the new year. Salary time.

May the new year make more sense than the previous. Cheers!!!
M

Kingdom Come

Image Credits - Google

It's a lovely day for chocolate
All dark, bitter and free
The Sun is warm and perfect
The waves gently tickle my feet

Ham & Eggs on the table,
Before the sun gets all high
A never ending Caipiroska sweats
My Beer lets out a sigh

I walk through the French Windows
The curtains make way for the breeze
Sands disappear & sprawling lawns arise
Dogs look happy and fine

The early stars shine through the open roof
The Pool is quite comforting
Exit through the hidden waterfall
Into a Den, my play world

A new book, I muse over a phrase
Into the life size Aquarium, I gaze
The moon light peers in through the palms
Overseeing the cities crystal maze

The Custom-made shines bright black
Below the canopy of the Tree house
A Cabinet full of Muay Thai trophies
My Mind, it's a digital mouse

The Boys and Girls come over
Cheering for our good old Chelsea
The Party's just begun
And it's getting Guetta Crazy

Reality is limited to your imagination,
The kingdom is to your pocket
Mine however, is on her way
Till then...

It's a lovely day for chocolate

How to fight Corruption in India? From the Top.

Let me begin this post with a story.

The Auto I got into was driven by a young chap. Maybe 20 years old. And he was furious. Very Very Mad and it took him all of 5 seconds to engage me in a conversation which had him talking and me "huh huh'ing" all the way. For sake of this post, lets call him Raju.

The object of Raju's anger was a ticket that he was handed by a traffic cop in the morning. From his explanation, I understood that this cop kept picking on him and the other auto drivers on some flimsy issue or the other. Like lack of documents, non functioning indicators, cutting signals etc. ( Let me point out, these violations were considered flimsy by Raju, not me. In my opinion violations are violations, no matter how small or large.)

While he tried his best to "adjust" the matter with the cop, he refused and cut the auto driver a ticket. Because of this, the auto driver had to roam the courts the whole day and pay a fine of 1500. His fury at having lost a day's earnings and having to be noted in the court was so huge, that he proudly showed me a mean hockey-like stick under his seat. He vowed to teach the cop a "lesson" and narrated stories of how these cops catch these auto wala for stupid things like faulty indicators, broken lights, old meters, and sometimes do it deliberately when they refuse to pay the bribe, or to increase the bribe.

On this occasion, the cop had given him the ticket and did not agree to "adjust". And Raju strongly felt because it was some personal agenda, though he couldn't say what it exactly was.

That was the story. But it raised grave questions in my mind. On the life stages of corruption. How can you tackle corruption?

Taken from here

First and foremost, who is giving these auto guys driving licences? even when they don't know the basic regulations? Obviously some RTO official whose hands are greased and does not do the due diligence. Why does he take a bribe? Because he has probably paid a huge one to get the plum posting. Plum for two reasons, one it's a Government job, and second the additional "implied" income. So why did the person who "Arranged" for the plum posting take a bribe? Well, there are too many applicants, he has control over the situation, and merit based job offerings hardly exist. Also someone has given him the task of appointing people that will bow to his masters will, therefore starting another chain in itself. Now multiply this one scenario across government organizations, and you will realize why it is a self feeding system, and why a few honest and upright people cannot affect large scale change.

Now the other part. The Cop who refused to take a bribe and cut the ticket. Let's assume that he is honest guy and for a change wanted to be honest. What are the possible risks he has taken? One, being "marked" out as the honest one that can create a problem amongst his peers. Two, an auto driver has the guts to scheme against an upholder of the law. The numbers are definitely in favor of the auto walas.

But honestly, tell me, who is the major money maker here? Is it the cops? Or is it the Government office? Everyone in the system at the middle or the bottom, has a reason or need to do it. (Am not justifying corruption)

But what about the people at the top?

What about those who make law, and the ones who decide, the ones who rule. The Ones that WE elect?

If you tell me, that these top guys can make money and siphon off money to all parts of the world, but cannot  change a corrupt system, I beg to differ.

Instead of getting 100 crore + people to change, why can't we ensure that 500+ elected representatives, and their like at the state level to change a system?

A baby born into this world is not born corrupt and dishonest. It's the system that turns them into corrupt people. Education may teach a child what is right and what is wrong, but out of the school, everything is the reverse. At every point the child see's just the opposite of what is being taught in school.

I hope I have made sense to the larger audience.

This time around, please make two choices to change this country.

1. VOTE
2. Vote for the right candidate, a person who is not corrupt, has no criminal cases, and is not part of a party that has corrupt officials in it. Remember, an honest person in a corrupt party cannot remain honest for long.

Of course, this does not absolve us from being corrupt ourselves. This also does not mean that we sit back and blame the ones at the top. The only point I am making is that you can do a greater deal by Voting right, and encouraging people to vote right.

Jai Hind.
M

Toilet Ratios and more

The past week has been an interesting one. From Sur Kshetra contestants mentored by a Nasal singer and a 24/7 heart broken voice, to Big Boss 6 vying for the space in the drama entertainment scene against our most long lasting drama series ever - Politics.

In unrelated notes tissue paper rolls, also released this week was the drastic eye opener to the state of toilets in this country, which has people in all parts shitting themselves silly (including yours truly) and clogging social media sites across the world.

Honestly, I don't see why there is such a fuss about the whole thing anyway.Did Slumdog Millionaire Not show us the sad state of bowel cleaning facilities in Mumbai vis a vis the number of Apartment complexes that are coming up in every nook and corner of the city. An ADARSH example is it not? 

And what's a little honesty and shit cladden cuteness to get an Oscar eh?

It's just a statement that there were more temples than toilets.You'd think as the in-charge of Rural Development since July 2011, they'd have realized this sooner and done something about it. But you must keep in mind that there is still a lot of things they need to count. Like the number of benefits that one can get by being the son in law of....err never mind. I don't want to die.

On a similar note, I wonder what the stats are in our central state, where a certain leader had statues of herself put up everywhere in vast stone gardens that could probably house, what a 1000 toilets?

In fact I am a staunch believer in such constipation-beating ratios. For example what is the ratio of toilets in the capital, versus that amount of MONEY that went down the same drain for the Commonwealth Games.

But these are very smart people. For example, in states where there is a water crisis, like Karnataka (being an opposition party government is mere coincidence, I assure you) you create an additional shortage of water to justify the number of toilets that exist. BRILLIANT. All these people who are cribbing can't see the brilliance of your plans. 

In all fairness of course, a minister can only compare such an important issue like basic sanitation and toilets, with another grave issue such as education, poverty, drinking water, health care, roads, food shortage,irrigation, crop failure,  Temples. What use is faith in such dire consequences anyway? 

And after all, these religious institutions have so much of money that the common man willing puts in, that are used only for making hospitals and educational facilities and all that. Who will save poor Swiss banks if we can't get our hands on that? 

The most dark toilet ratio would probably be the coal one. I mean tons and tons of coals passed on to friendly neighborhood businesses. What's wrong in that? Let them make a little money. That some of the relatives are sitting on the board of these companies, (and probably using the office toilets, of course) has nothing to do with it. 

Imagine what a beautiful toilet ratio this would be - the amount of cash and gold flushed down the toilets of all those politicos those Income Tax people raided? Must've clogged half the states plumbing. My bowels are itching with anticipation at the probable numbers!!!

Sigh. Perhaps the toilet ratios in Switzerland are far better than here, must explain the amount of money they have stuck up there. I wonder if they will ever be flushed back to where they belong. Without these Swiss toilets, we'd probably be on of the richest nations around. Stinking Rich mostly.  

Speaking of which, the toilet beckons. 

:) M

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed here are my own and hold no affiliation to any organization, existing or past whatsoever. The contents above are satirical in nature and does not indicate any person or organization, living or dead. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. 

To Do Lists and Food

You may have noticed that I have not posted for a month or so now.

(If No - I shall assume even that if you haven't, you were probably down with the worst case of dysentery, and that the location you live in is plagued by an attack of idol-carrying-warriors who yelled and chanted late enough into the night that resulted in you trying to catch some sleep inside the washing machine & *mumble* *mumble* ....cut your access to the most important part of your online world - my blog)

Wouldn't it be easier to have said yes, instead of read through that random paragraph?

Taken from here

Now the topic for the day is To-Do Lists and Food. The latter part I am well versed with, endowed with magical digestion *touch wood* properties of Ghatotkacha and the likes. There hardly is a restaurant in Mumbai that doesn't smile at the sight of a wobbling customer, more so if he wobbles naturally and without beer in him already. And when it comes to wobbling figure, you know who's the boss. *wink wink*

I actually wanted to write about another of my Taxi driver encounters (the best yet actually) I controlled my urge to do so. (You see, I have updated my IndiBlogger web details, I did not want them to categorize my website under "Weird Transport driver obsessed Blogs". As it is there are enough obsessions in this city to deal with)

So coming back to the To-Do list. I am big fan of making these lists. I sit down, and spend a lot of time in thinking through how I should categorize them, how I should number them, which pen I should you use...etc. After which I write them in the best handwriting, and so concise that even Twitter would be proud of. And I insist that I mark them as done and not done and all that. Once I am done, I dust my page for effect, turn the page and inspect the imprint on the back page, and then ......*drum roll*........

.....

*vuvuzela roll*

*chicken roll*
....
....close the book.

I didn't say I actually did something about what I was supposed to do. You see, I'd like to know things that I need to do, so that in case someone catches me off guard, I can always thrust my neat book in their face and say - "See, it's right there. Point 7, 3rd sentence after the appropriately grammered semi colon.That too in handwritten Verdana  font size 11. Ha."

I can see some of you nodding heads. This strategy works especially well, when cornered in a high level meeting, or if lagging behind on task and there is a cricket match, or when the wife wants you to get something, etc.Of course, the more often you use it, the less effective it gets. It's mostly okay to just threaten to bring out the To-Do book to scare them, instead of actually bringing it out.

Now coming to the second topic. Food.

Food is good. Food is tasty. Which reminds me, its time to have some.

:) M

Spirituality in an Auto - Mumbai Tidbits

It was just another day, another ride home, and another auto wala. By now, I thought had seem them all. The ones who told me their life story, graduates who had come to live the Mumbai dream, others struggling to make ends meet, and so on.

Little did I know, that these swearing-at-the-drop-of-a-hat guys had an unknown side to them as well. Spirituality.

It was on one of these regular trips, that this guy began his tirade against humanity. He used the choicest mother-sister referenced expletives at each and every man on wheels, and the rampant potholes as well. To shut him up, as he was constantly engaging a non responding me in an attempted conversation, I said 

"Ab kya kare, har kisi ka kuch na kuch problem hai life main." - A very generic statement that works effectively across occasions. 

He kept quite for 5 minutes. I was happy at my success. If I had only known, I would have done this earlier. I went back to my Hunger games - the last chapter, and Katniss Everdeen fighting against a horde of SEC A+ people laden with Make up while struggling with her choice of TWO boyfriends seemed more important than the misery's of the world. 

"Kya Aapne Bhagwan Dhekha hai?" came the question. 

I sat there dumbfounded. 

For a second I wondered. Should I ignore a potential life changing question and see if Katniss kissed Peeta? Or take a risk and listen to him and be given enlightenment, in the back seat of an Auto.

He decided to make it easier for me. Without me saying anything, He continued about how, from the last 8 years he has been a sevak of Nirankari Baba. Of how he goes every week to this place, where all kinds of people including popular actors come, to perform seva. After 8 years, he had the good fortune of seeing God, and he could now see him at will, and that he was there everywhere. (I KID YOU NOT)

For a second, I wanted to know what he was smoking, but he was in his own world. He cared not if I was listening, he kept talking, and his whole demeanor had changed. He was talking much softer, and almost to himself. It was absolutely numbing to see this person talking about the greater good, of not worrying about problems, and having faith. And to think 20 minutes ago, he cursed like the devil himself. Fine balance between reality and spirituality. 

As I got off, he pointed to the poster he put up on the back of his rickshaw. He wasn't bluffing. http://www.nirankari.com/

On another occasion, I got a discourse on how Kalyug has proven true as Krishna had siad it would, an e.g being there will be more liquor in households than God. 

Only in Mumbai, I tell you. Only in Mumbai. 

M

Love in an auto - Mumbai Tidbits

I have been in the city of dreams for about  4 months now. And there are many things that are different, unique and surprising sometimes. 

One of the many things that has given me a unique perspective of things is the concept of sharing Autos with people you hardly know.

Totally Random. Yes.

I usually wait near my house to catch an auto. Now the location I work at, Chakala, is the Mother-of-Traffic-Jams. Its like a free for all rally for vehicles. Imagine being stuck on the peak of a flyover for hours. And having nothing to do except look at other cars. I happened to once see Vinay Pathak in a Hyundai Accent. But most of the other times its just legs in various attires or as far as the eye can see, without. 

Anyways, going by the sheer traffic, getting an auto is next only to getting a meeting with the President. Wait, that's a bong now so rash-gulla should do the trick...err Prime Minister.The ratio of getting an auto to stop is 5/10. Getting a stopped auto to take you to where you want to go is 1/10. So your chance individually is 1 out of 20. Add 5 more people to the equation and you get the picture. There are also the crazies, who will run all around the road, at ALL autos, and cursing loudly. 

So there is always a small gathering on different sides of the road trying to get an auto to the same locale. I can recognize many of them now, by having seen them so often. That's when it started.

The first time was this guy who got an auto and stopped a little ahead and popped his head out to ask me if he could drop me to Andheri Station, which was like mid way to my stop. I politely declined, out of awkwardness. 

The next time it was raining heavily, My shoes was already drenched. Not one single auto was even bothered to look at us. I stopped an auto but he refused, and started talking to the lady behind me. I walked away, and heard her arguing with the auto wala. In a few minutes she called out to me, offering to drop me to some place. I had no idea where that was, and I told her so. She just shrugged and left.

Next was my turn. I was in an auto stuck in the traffic, reading a book. An old lady approached us and asked where I was going. She asked me for a drop to someplace in between which I obliged. I felt good I must say. And Not a word from the auto wala. It was welcome change after the Thugs of Bangalore.

One the very same day, on my way back, there was a long wait. Just as I got an auto, a pretty young thing asked me where I was going, and said if she could join me. As laddoo's phooted in my head, I enthusiastically  agreed with my best smile and faster-than-Usain-Bolt head nodding. 

Just as she was going to get into the auto, And as the violins were getting into the flow of things, the autowala decided he didn't like me. Or my future plans. He refused plainly to take on additional passenger (Bah!) and demanded money from her. Outraged, I started going Karate on him when, she smiled sweetly and said it's ok. I was crest fallen.

Needless to say, I fought like hell with him over the meter, more so for him spoiling my potential marriage plans. I still mourn the opportunity of the kids we could've had together. *Sigh*

(For the record, my modus operandi for picking women is not offering rides in autos. Actually, I don't even have one, I think.)

The last, was recently, when the station were closed. This guy just asks me, "Dude where you going" So I told him and he said lets share an auto. I agreed. Over chasing autos all over the road (Yes, he was a mumbaikar, also equipped with the latest in cursing technology) and after finally badgering one to take us, we spoke. Of random things, where we worked an all that. He happened to stay two blocks next to my place, and he let me in on Auto catching technology.  

And so it has been, waiting and sharing, sharing and dropping and all that. Next time, maybe, the auto wala will be kind to not mess with my future.

Cheers

M

Item (Aitum)

Your friendly neighborhood saloon is a very interesting place. Like in the wild, it's the water pool that all wild and friendly animals gather for a drink. All kinds of them, large, small, wild, tame and the occasional spoiled rich brat. The best place to start of in a new city would be the local chai wala, followed by a visit to the saloon.

Naresh stepped in and was immediately acknowledged with a welcome nod from the barber and his team. They were busy chatting with their respective customers. That's half the trick of a good business. A good saloon in its true sense, is like a confidence booster. The Saloon is not selling style or a hair cut, but a good time and confidence. 

Each of the barbers was in a different animated style of conversation. The owner, the most outspoken of them all was the one who was the most familiar with the neighborhood, and  was busy fussing over the neighborhood goon. Apart from another customer, the third chair was vacant. Without saying much, Naresh took up his place at the chair. A fortnightly hair cut made him feel neat, and a shave whenever he was in was appreciated.

Unlike most however, Naresh did not like to talk. Instead he just liked to observe people. What they do, how they do it and all that. It was a mental game he played with himself, guessing what was going on through their heads. He weighed up his targets for the day in the mirror opposite him, which reflected the mirror behind him, which gave him a better picture of the people around him.

Unfortunately, there was no one interesting around. The Local thug had left, and the other person was an old chap who looked like he needed help to keep him from falling off the chair in his sleep. Now that was a good option. Sleep.

A Sharp non male voice startled him from his reverie. 

"Yes cut his hair and make him look good. Ask him what he likes as well"

He opened his eyes and at the same time caught the scent of Eternity by Ck. The only fragrance he could recognize.

She looked in her late 30's. Lovely long hair, straightened and coloured with shades of brown and gold. Make up a coat too much that said she was trying too hard, and a lovely black Salwar Kameez. It's fascinating how mirrors allow you to see so much.

Her ward, though was odd. He had a thick head of hair, was thin, and looked very different from his host. Wearing a unbranded jeans and a light blue shirt tucked out. While the owner went to work on his head, she kept staring at him and smiling. 

Naresh began to think.

She hardly looked the types to come into a local saloon. She was fair & gorgeous looking. The boy looked like a 19-20 year old, dark and with a hint of mustache. They were definitely not related, maybe he was one of those society kids that society adopts and takes care off. Makes sense, that she would take him here rather than her high society place.

The owner was done in 5 minutes, making the boy look much smarter. He added for effect "You look great with this slim face of yours, just like a movie star" which was followed by her high pitched giggle. 

A giggle.

The Boy got off his chair and went to her, she held him by his shoulders, and moved a speck of hair from his shirt and face. She grabbed some money from her expensive looking handbag and handed it directly to the owner. 

As they walked out, the boy looked embarrassed, the lady as proud as a rooster, praising her ward's good looks and asking him if he was happy.

The moment they were out of sight, the owner starts - "So sir, what would you call this? A Sister? An Aunt? What a strange team. I have never seen them in this area. And that boy looked so young..."

The other barber added "Yes, looked very suspicious. I think.."

Awkward Silence.

Finally Naresh's barber kept down the scissors and for the first time, said something. 

"Item. He is her item, her worker and her item."

* * *

M

Albert - The Super Cop

Short. Stubby. Sad. Sentimental. All the wrong words, and yet here he was, looking for the killer.

Albert was a cut above the rest. Skill wise. And yet, if you took a look at him, he was cuts below the size the rest of his more popular crew was. That's where the difference was most visible.


His training was peculiar, in the sense that he always had multiple trainers. His colleagues always stuck to one trainer who eventually would be their partners, or buddy's. He however was hated. No one wanted him, and as a result he kept changing hands. He was, how do you put it? Eccentric.

It took just one case to prove that he was anything but bloody brilliant. And had a penchant for carrots.

Today's task was a challenging one. He was always brought in, when the rest had given up. He moved slowly around the floor, looking disinterested. Hardly a place to be interestingly yapping around though, this murder scene. Signs of violence all around, blood across multiple spots, clothes messed up. In other words, the usual.

What was different, was that the body was small. The clothes were on the body, splattered with blood. The Left sneaker was off the foot, the other presumably strewn across a cupboard or table. A young one. Golden hair now red. Blue eyes still open, in terror. Fist clenched, holding on to critical evidence - a piece of cloth. A heinous crime it was, killing a child with multiple stabs of a butcher knife. Which was also lying around.

Smelt like man slaughter. Life Term.

If the Murderer was ever caught, that is. But that was his job. His fellow inspector's watched him with great attention. Albert went around the corpse, hardly even taking a proper look. He stopped and looked around. It was a stab wound, there was no signs of the body being moved around, the wounds were mildly deep, making of an unsure or a first timer. But the sneaker was missing. Why was one sneaker missing? Understandable if there was a chase, a strangling, self defense. And it was brutal. 23 Stabs. On a 18 year old.

He went around the house. Followed keenly by an entourage. Nothing.

The Garage. Nothing

The Basement. Nothing

He began to sniff around in the vegetable patch, and his ears perked up. He started running around in crazy Zig Zag motion, and frantically picked up pace. In a second he was off, chasing wildly on to the pavement right to the Garbage Bin. With one smooth motion he *whammed* right into the Bin, knocking it over.

By the time the entourage of inspectors and fellow canines caught up with him, he was busy lying in the shade, panting. Waiting for the rest of them to find his clue -

Another left foot sneaker, the same style, the same brand, just blood stained.

Albert climbed back into his kennel, and grabbed a carrot. He was the top dog after all.

Colonizing the Colonizers

Someone rightly said, Mahatma Gandhi said "Be the change you want to see in the world"  
Silent prayer to Google and Wikipedia. 


I bet they never saw that kind off change coming. Or that we'd follow them back to their country and populate it like rabbits, and infest their streets with restaurants serving Tandoori dishes. (1.5 million strong and counting)


Music  - Raghav Sachar to Jay Sean, Juggy D, Rishi Rich? Ring a bell?
Food  - Tandoori Chicken, Dal Makhani, Tikka
Transport - Jaguar. 
Business - Arcelor. Corus. British Salt, Tetley etc etc (FYI  - Top 5 Investors in the country, Tata group alone counts for 2.something of your GDP.
Television Series, Movies, Politicans, Law and policy makers and so on and so forth.


Get the drift? I hope you do Dear fellow. I have absolutely no inclination to research, my people in Cambridge and Oxford are looking into it.

Now we have our sights set on your sport. Football. (It's all part of the 200 year plan. Started with Venky's and Blackburn. Now Airtel is in on it.)


I'll make you an deal. Give us the Kohinoor back, and we'll spare your fish n chips.


Regards
Madan "Cheeky Fellow" Kamath

PS - No offence Intended. In the immortal words of Russell Peters..." ...do you realize there's not gonna be no more white people? There's not gonna be any more black people. Everyone is going to be beige....Eventually we're all gonna become some hybrid mix of Chinese and Indian. They're the two largest populations in the world. So you can run from us now."

Why You No Marrying, Beta?

On one of my last conversations with mum, (who invariably has two topics on her mind all the time) the topic of debate was marriage. (So you know which topic was left - weight loss)

Sometimes I wonder if single men give off some kind of vibe that set's your parents biological clock to get you married ticking. 

So we were talking, or more she was persuading and I was batting like Raphael Nadal (Yes, batting) scrambling from one defense to the other, before she had me stumped with a blinder. 

"You have to get married next year, or there will be no girls left" 

I quickly did a one handed Google search - had the Mayans figured out the survival rate of eligible women after the EOW in 2012? And worse, had the reports reached mum before me?!! (Sacrilege on my self styled social media expert status, no?)

Mum doesn't try too hard. She just throws doubts in my way and just waits for a confirmation of some sorts. I bet if I so much as nod on this end of the phone, she'd figure it out and blow the bugle. And Tata Safari's of random aunties would pop out with Grandmothers-sisters-chachi's-betas-cousin's-husband's-doctor's-veterinary college professor's-brother's-dog's-mother's owner's best friend's daughter's hand for marriage.  

Mental Note to Self - Must find if there's a defense-against-the-mum-who's-trying-to-get-you-married-arts class near Versova. 

Anyways, coming to the topic, the things parent's say to convince you if you plan to get married or are refusing to get married are unbelievable. And the conviction they say it with...Uff!!!

Like, when I told my parents that I would let them know if I ever found someone I wanted to get married to, my Dad goes "I don't care who you marry, as long as she is from our community and she's a homely girl" 

Ah. I see some of you nodding heads. 

And this - "We need to get the word out and find a good girl for you, these day's their very hard to find."

Gee, how perceptive of you guys, thanks!!! I can stop random Friend requests and socializing now.

"If we start searching now, it will take a couple of years to find a match"

I can see that set of eligible profiles in your back pocket, Dad.

"You are getting older, people are asking about you. You have a great job and a good salary. What's your problem?"

So now your bullish on this commodity on the market that's...how do I say it, matured?

"Other guys your age are having kids and handling responsibilities while working!!! Why are you so stuck up about this?"

Responsibilities. I rest my case

"Just meet this girl. She's smart, educated, good looking and everything. Just your type"

Isn't Jessica Alba already married?

"What's wrong in just meeting her once?"

Righty!!! I am feeling mighty lucky today. Lottery anyone?

"What do we know about this girl friend of yours huh? Different background, culture. How will she fit in to the family? What will your uncles and aunties say about us?"

Uh huh. They'll keep gossiping, even after feasting on the marriage dinner. We'll get even when their Darling springs the North Indian surprise at them in a month or so.

"Why won't you just listen to us and get married ?"

A four letter word - Love

What happens once you get married? Now that's a topic of many a movie and recently, a commercial for an insurance brand :) Not to mention the entry of the greatest proponent and secret power behind it all - Grandma. 

Cheers

M

A Midsummer Night's Adventure

Hello.

< Spoiler - Long Post >

Since the last one month or so of sobriety, I have nothing interesting or exciting to report, except for the story I shall narrate below, and that I can now cook for a living. Which is a big deal, given that Maggi was my idea of a home cooked meal.

Added to my now expanding repertoire of home cooked meals is Rice, Dal, chicken curry and fry, Oats Upma, Pasta, Tea and Coffee. Also Potato wedges and tomatoes with a special fluffy omelet. So far I haven't seen my neighbors complaining, nor the birds and squirrels in nearby trees choking while I cook, so I guess its all good. As for me, my stomach is like a cement mixer (touch wood) and has kept my faith up.

Anyways, the story I am going to narrate will need a precautionary disclaimer:

Sabbatical

Sabbatical or a sabbatical (From Latin Sabbaticus, from Greek, from Hebrew shabbat<, i.e Sabbath, literally a "ceasing") is a rest from work, or a hiatus, often lasting from two months to a year.

To my billions of readers, (99.99% imaginary) do not despair. I have decided to take a Sabbatical from Blogging, Facebook and Twitter. It has nothing to do with you of course, I don't even know you. Unless that I actually know you, which makes the previous statement redundant. I will perhaps, use Foursquare and Instagram, but lets see.

I believe in the last 12 months or so, I have spent a lot of time on things which were of no consequence. I have squandered my time and patience, my energies and my feelings on meaningless pursuits, and in chasing happiness that was only temporary. That does not mean I didn't have fun. But I seem to be languishing in the past, which is definitely not good. And also that the world moves on, even if you don't. Something to do with the earth rotating and all that.

No, I am not shaving my head and heading to the Himalayas. As much as I am tempted to do. 

Its just that I've begun to lose out on the important things. For example I spend so much time on Social media with no actual expertise what soever. I tweet, but I have like 5 tweeps who interact. And both these time consuming activities are not something that I see myself doing at 40. As a job that is. 

Apart from the time factor, I also have a lot of baggage I want to get rid off. I want to see if it exists once I come back, in which case it wouldn't be baggage. And there is the RSI. After all the typing at work, I don't think I need any more back home.

Also I have begun leaning towards "reculsive" tendencies - the biggest sign, Food no longer interests me. Yikes!!! (Vada Pav is an exception)

I've been thinking on these lines for some time now. My real life is nothing like the online life. Which is very very sad. 

There are many things I plan to do. One of course is to continue writing but not publish them. And also to find a publisher who would give me honest feedback on my script. (I just realized I can type without looking at the keyboard. Yay!!!) 

Also Travel around this city, which, as of now I have no interest in. Maybe take up a hobby, a real one. Or maybe  start painting again. Its been ages since I did that. Photography is also possible, in which case I would have to use Flickr or something. And that will need to be rethought. I also want to visit more people and talk to people more. I might study, and reading is definitely on my agenda. 

I'll cut myself some slack. I don't know If I'll get a reason to come back, or as to when. I might be back in 2 days, or 2 months, or 2 years, or never. But in my current non inebriated state, I don't have a clue.

Take care, I'll miss you 

Keep Smiling :)

M

Prey 2

(Cont'd from Prey, Recommend you read it)

He was seated comfortably at the recliner, watching her intently. And the show that was unfurling.

"How the hell did this person get in?!" the supervisor yelled at her, pushing an unassuming looking person out of the gate.

She was caught unawares. She suddenly got back into attention, her eyes moving from the kid to her supervisor. Her fingers instinctively played behind her back. Which was more to do with her feminine response than that of a trained CAIF personnel.

"Sir, I was at that end, I didn't see..." she mumbled

"PRECISELY!!! You didn't see. You weren't paying attention and people walk in from the side gates, the ones which you are manning!!!" said the supervisor. His dark Moustache twitching as he stood to his full 6'3 heights, obviously enjoying the spot in which he had caught her napping.

" Sir magar,..." she switched to Hindi, hoping to get to a more emotive level.

" Do your work and stop dancing around!!!" said the supervisor, as he turned around and marched back into the security check area.

She looked down and waited for him to vanish. The only person who had the authority to pull her up for any misdemeanor was her reporting officer. She checked the revolver at her side, which was secured by a clasp that made it secure, no smarty could pull it out without her knowing. Of course, if she let the so said individual come up so close.

He smiled. He had seen one of the top security forces in the country so easily distracted. He thought it was a good moment to utilize.

At that very moment, she noticed him. He sat in the front row. He wore a prayer cap, wore spectacles which were probably a guise, and had a long flowing beard. He was dressed in a flowing white kurta over a dark blue jeans. He was reaching for something in black back pack, and was in the process of standing up. He had a nasty scowl on his face.

She had just been reprimanded on letting in non passengers into the waiting area. Maybe there were others, she had the right to check against a boarding pass.

"SIR!!! Can I see you ticket please", she called out.

No response. The man was still reaching for his Black bag.

"SIR, I need to see your boarding pass or ID, now please" She called out again as she moved towards him.

The man stood up, without looking at her, and his bag was now in front of him, one hand in the bag reaching for something.

"SIR, I NEED TO SEE YOUR PASS NOW" She raised her voice, now hardly 10 feet from him.

He looked up at her. His brow was sweaty, and his face showed panic, as he brought his bag with his  arm inside it to a full stop right in front of him, almost taking aim.

Her instincts took over. In a flash, the clasp was off, the security lock released and the revolver in her hand pointed right at him, shouting out loud, "SIR STOP", The 'SIR' not leaving her manners even at this point.

The man panicked, the bag fell off his arm, exposing the black devise that was gleaming.

She Fired. It hit him right in the chest. The Second shot took hardly a second, and as he reeled back from impact, the bag fell from his arm. Blood spurted from the shot as he collapsed without a gasp.

His camera tumbled on to the floor. His Press ID hanging from the back of the camera, now covered in blood.

The next day, the headlines screamed the violent side of the CAIF, and how an innocent press reporter was shot in the airport for behaving suspiciously and trying to take unauthorized photos

M

Prey

The Airport was hot. And everyone was busy fanning themselves and gulping down water from expensive branded bottles, the same brands that would have been available for half the price outside the Airport. Apparently the authorities felt it was ok to fleece people who come within the property of the NAI.

After the recent attacks, security was tight. The CAIF was manning every major entry and exit but in the sea of suits and salwars, they looked completely out of place in their army fatigues. Every one of them was armed with either an AK-something or a pistol. Some had stars, some had berrets, some had nothing. They checked everyone's papers and their photo id's before letting them in. You could say they had become almost mechanical.

But her eyes were watchful, marking each and everyone against their said positions on the map in her mind. Years of training and practice had made her strong and tough. Or so she thought.

Her features revealed nothing. She had dark eyes that were accentuated by the Kajal, her short hair tied in a neat bun. The Blush was colour coordinated to her lip gloss, and went well with her fair skin, making her look beautfiul, the very reason she blended in. Her clothes were designed to ensure minimal obstruction in case things went wrong, and in this case every moment was critical. She had to be alert.

She stood at the lesser fortified entrances, looking around as any passenger would. Only, she wasn't just another passenger. It was monotonous, having to wait and watch, as others also fell into the play. The game twas meant for more of their kind to fall prey to the wile and evil scheming minds of their handlers. She began fiddling with her buttons.

Soon enough, she was distracted by the baby girl. She smiled at the kids antics, who, unaware of all the hostility around her, made it a point to dance around the whole floor, walk up to anyone and everyone and gurgle a wide smile, proudly showcasing her single tooth. For a moment, the airport became a huge play ground for the kid, and everyone, irrespective of caste, creed or religion felt obliged to smile. This went on for some time and slowly but surely, she was loosening up. She was intrigued, and was looking keely for the child's parents, who strangely didn't seem to be too worried about their child's whereabouts. She continued watching.

Unknown to her, someone else was watching her, and rattled off some instructions into the walkie talkie.

(To be cont'd)

M

Flight 6E

The announcement was weird. The flight name was a play on the word "Sexy", which was shamelessly self patronizing. "Oh so Pretty..." their current ad campaign said and it was exactly what their hostesses looked liked. Leaving the Reds far behind, these chic looking ladies trotted around the airports in precise unison, and made him ponder if this was some kind of marketing gimmick. He never did like Red.

His attention was diverted by the guy shuffling back from the front to the back of the serpentine Que, a rare event in Indian Airports. He had missed his security stamp on the backpack, which meant going all the way back to security checking. These airports were full of characters, people from all parts of the country merging in large cold, heartless auditoriums, to be flown to different sister auditoriums. What broke the monotony, was either the shrill shriek of a baby, or a good book. In this case, in spite of both , his mind floated amongst the crowds of tops and short skirts, Skinny Jeans and tight T shirts with no purpose, with no intent.