Fiction: A Fairy Tale of Today (Part 1)

For as long as I could remember, I knew I was different. I looked like no one I know. Well, except my mother. Now, I do not know where my mother is. Father had married another woman, who was my step-mother. She did not like me. She said I reminded her of my mother.

My name was Sino. Translated from Shona to English, it meant 'Snow'. Father said he named me that because I was pure and white like snow. Father loved me. He always did. He told me I was beautiful even though I knew I wasn't. No one else thought I was. My skin and my hair were whiter than the whites of my father's eyes. My eyes gave me a lot of trouble too. I had to stay away from the sunlight so I was home most of the time.

My step mother did not like me. She made me do all the work at home. I cooked and cleaned and scrubbed all day. However, that day was different. She was nice to me and even gave me an apple to eat after they all had lunch. No one else was at home that day. Father had gone away on a company contract from Zimbabwe to Sudan and he was to return only after a year. I ate the apple, relishing each bite. Halfway through, I felt woozy and fainted.

_____________________________________________________________________________________


When I woke up, I was on a hospital bed. My insides felt like they were made of broken glass. My limbs were stiff and I could not lift a finger. However, my father was there screaming and pumping his fist into the air. "Had he gone mad?", I wondered. My breathing was laborious and painfully slow. I could see my breath fogging up the oxygen mask.

I heard Father and the doctor talking. The doctor said I would be okay. I would need to learn to use my muscles again. I had been in a coma for a year after all. Father nodded and asked a few questions and then the doctor left.

Father sat down next to me. I asked him with my eyes as best as I could, "What happened to me?" and he sadly smiled. He said that I had been raped by 7 men who were HIV positive(in exchange for some money that my step mother took from them) a year ago on this very day. There was a belief in Zimbabwe that sex with an albino woman will cure a man of HIV. The doctor said I had been infected by the virus too.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

This is the last time...

Isn't that what we say to ourselves when we try to give up an addiction? I've been going through something similar myself.

At first when I made up my mind, I was confident...nay, over-confident. "Pfft, who needs this. I am not defined by this...I am awesome!" and the like.

 

Then, I became totally smug. Everywhere I looked I saw clueless people mindlessly indulging in that stupid piece of crap I was indulging in till yesterday. "Ugh, I can't believe I was one of them", "Don't you see what a hold this thing has on you?". Clearly, I am better than them.

Slowly, self doubt starts to kick in. And then an epiphany...those people aren't mindless, they're happy. And I am sad. I need to get back to my addiction, I really do. Dang, why did I quit in the first place!

And then the turbulent pro-con battle begins.

Pro: It's good for you to quit it.
Con: Is it really good for you to quit it?

Pro: You can now focus on more productive things.
Con: Can you really focus on anything more productive than that?

Pro: Subconsciously, you hate yourself for your addiction.
Con: Does your subconscious really hate you?

Obviously, the cons are more convincing because the italicized 'really' makes a huge difference.

Well one more wouldn't hurt. On to level 51 of candy crush then. Damn, I can never stay away from it for too long.

According to my astrologer(s)

Hollywood's romantic comedies, Bollywood's movies and Mills & Boons/Harlequin novels have shoved various stereotypes down our throats when it comes to girls and weddings. The moment we were conceived, the wheels were set in motion. It all begins innocently enough.

Your parents make you watch 'The Sleeping Beauty', 'Cinderella' and the likes and you naturally put yourself in the Princess's position. There's just one difference though; while you're thinking about what your mother is making for dinner, the princess is checking-in on Foursquare at Horny-ville. Then, they hand you a Barbie and you're playing all independent career woman type games, i.e. Teacher-Teacher, with it and suddenly, they give you a Ken doll and a Kitchen set.

I am sure you can gather by the dwindling number of posts on this blog and the sour tone of the previous posts, World War III just got over at my house regarding this very topic. My parents have a lot of allies.

Relatives : "I just have one wish ma(the nth time they talk about 'one' wish)...that your child should poop in my lap".

Family Friends: "Your parents are saying for your good only".

But you expected those two, didn't you? I am going to give you a third category - Astrologers. Yes, these stargazers have been making weird predictions about my life and I couldn't resist sharing some of them.

• If she doesn't get married this year, then she will get married only after that. As opposed to wedging myself into a time machine and going back in time to get married before that?
• Nalla paiyan(good boy) she will get. America la irrupan(he'll be from America)! Dude, is this called fortune-telling? Firstly, you would never tell parents that their offspring was going to wed the spawn of Satan. And secondly, Tamil Brahmin Engineer will not be in America then where he will be? Don't angry me!
• If you want her to get married soon, feed some cooked moong dal to ants on Wednesdays. Okay, what? Do you have some sort of setting with the ants king or something? You know: In return for some cooked moong dal that some well-meaning people will give you, you shall stop raiding my snacks cabinet! Naansense.

Sigh...parents.

P.S.: Wow, it has been five months since I wrote here. And real-life wasn't even that hectic or exciting to make up for this inactivity!
P.P.S.: You could follow me on Quora if you like my incessant rambling. I am pretty active there.

What You Can't Put In Your C.V.

1) Karaoke Enthusiast when intoxicated

• Can sing along to Gangnam Style
• Can back it up with dance moves

2) Practising Linguist

• Again, can sing along to Gangnam Style
• Can spew filthy curse words in English, Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada, Hindi and Arabic 

3) Giggle Juice Connoisseur

• Holds record for most LIITs consumed ever

4) Major in Lazing/Sleeping with a Minor in Daydreaming

• Can drift off in all settings including important meetings
• Receiver of Bravery Award for killing cockroach swarm(in dreams)

5) Awarded for living the most boring life ever

• Survived weekend marathon of Keeping Up with the Kardashians without suffering brain hemorrhage
• Can write stupid pointless posts like this

Please hire me somebody.

P.S.: Yes I wrote this in sheer desperation to resuscitate my blog.
P.P.S.: Did the resuscitation work? Leave me a comment to let me know.
P.P.P.S.: Writing some many Ps makes me want to Pee.

Facebook For Parents

Dear readers,

I know I know I haven't written forever! But believe me, I had an iron-clad reason not to...you see, working as a Software Engineer has sapped all my creative juices. My activities have been reduced to:

• Stalking people I hate on Facebook
• "Upvoting" answers on Quora
• Ignoring Google+ notifications

That takes up most of my working day. In between, I compile my useless code which, believe me, hardly ever works. But it serves the purpose of taking up enough time for me to go and ping a friend something like "Can you believe - what she was wearing/who she was snogging- on Facebook?".

Quite a few family members of mine are on Facebook. Not very active apart from the occasional wall post on their own walls(really) and mentioning my embarrassing pet name publicly to the delight of my evil friends(seriously). You know where they are really active, though? Matrimonial sites. Yeah, I had the distinct pleasure of gawking, spluttering and hyperventilating in office when I discovered my own profile on one such site. Very loudly, let me add.

With a choice between a sheep, a monkey and a variety of pictures with drinks and food and cartoon characters from my Facebook profile pictures album, they smartly opted for some picture of me in a Saree where I looked pained while flashing a fake smile. A million other invasive details such as horoscopes, star signs, caste and stool samples follow. I stumbled upon the "Personalized Messages" section and that's when I was convinced that I was in the darkest corners of the Internet.

By the end of the ordeal, I was experiencing a weird emotion where the urge to kill someone was greater than the urge to make funny about-to-cry faces. Okay not that weird, considering I have had this feeling a million times before. I am wondering if I should ask my parents to change my occupation to "Potential Serial Killer".

Bitchin' In The Kitchen

For the past year or so, I have been living it up in Bangalore. Oh yeah...I have done some crazy shit. In fact, just the other day I had my curd rice with a side of cough syrup while bundled up in a blanket watching Sex and The City. I know. Naughty.

My bachelorette pad is the shizz. Just a stone's throw away from ten hep places serving dosas to auto guys. But enough about that. The reason I am writing this post is because I wanted to share something with you guys(Hello? Anyone?). It's a little bit of an embarrassing thing to admit but...ah hell, I am just gonna come out with it. I am a bit of a domestic Goddess. Booyah.

You see the symbol on the right? You think it's people in trouble calling Batman, right? WRONG BIATCH! It's actually people who flipped their dosas wrong and now they look inedible. Domestic Goddess got swag.

Enough about me though. I have been receiving a few questions as to how I maintain my general domestic awesomeness and as I love helping people I decided to answer their questions. Let's go!


I just wanted to know what I can do to salvage this curry I made. It's a little bl-

So simple. Just chuck in a pound of masalas. Whatever you have in the kitchen. Everything tastes better with a little brick powder in it.

Hey domestic goddess, my room is messy and I wanted tips on cleaning out the clutter because my mo-

Too many words. It's so simple, honey. Just take all the stuff that's lying around on your bed and throw it into the cupboard. No one is going to look there anyway. DUH.

We have a red ant problem and I don't know what to-

Tch tch not to worry. Just do as I say. Take some sugar and leave a trail leading up to your roommate's room. She will have the ants all to herself and you will have peace.

That's all we have for now folks. Send in your queries and some cookies and I'll think about answering them. Toodles, my water is burning.

Bottle, bottle, everywhere; Not a drop to drink

Yes, I haven't written for a long time. No, I am not going to apologize. Why? Because I was practically swamped at work. Okay, you can stop snickering now.

Moving on.

Recently, I was flying to Chennai from Bangalore. One centimetre on the map, 4k dent in the wallet. Sad. Anyway, during security check I was busy not listening to music but having the ear phones plugged into my ears so that noone talks to me when all of a sudden the girl in front of me was called by the Airport Security Lady. She ripped open the girl's bag and whipped out an extremely cool-looking, well-hidden Finlandia vodka bottle. She gave the girl a look of disgust and called the Airport Security Guy. The guy also gave her a dirty look.

Airport Guy: Madam you cannot take this.
Girl: But the bottle is empty. What is the problem?

So the guy walked off and after a lengthy discussion that involved a lot of bottle-smelling and back-slapping he returned.

Airport Guy: Arey madam...there is beer smell in this.
Girl: Sir, I washed it many times. The smell won't go completely na?

Airport Guy: No no why are you taking the bottle?
Girl: It's a gift for my sister.

Airport Guy: Arey madam how can you give anyone an empty gift? Hehe...what madam don't fool us.
Girl: No really it's a gift for my sister. She collects bottles.

Airport Guy: Hai this is something people collect? What kind of girls are you all? AREY RAMU....O RAMU!!! THIS MADAM HAS A BEER BOTTLE AND SHE IS TAKING IT FOR HER SISTER. LET HER GO OR NOT? 

By now the entire airport knew that a girl *SHAME* was taking a smelly "beer" bottle *GASP* for her sister *TAUBA*. Finally, Ramu did give his approval but not before giving her a speech about how true Indian women would never carry around beer bottles, let alone collect them.

I wonder what would have happened if the bottle was full.

Shoppers, Stop!

On Sunday evening, my mother came up with the oft suggested mother-daughter activity of (her) choice: Shopping. While I have more tolerance than my father/brother for such activity, I still prefer not to indulge in it. However, I relented and gave in. Because she is my mom and I love her. And because she bribed me with food. Mostly the first reason though.

But before that we had to buy a packet of milk because the milkman had some personal vendetta against my mother and he never put milk for us. I know...first world problems!

Anyway, we buy the milk packet and then we head into Shoppers' Stop. After perusing through the clothes at different speeds - me, at a super human speed eliminating almost all of them with a single glance, and my mother, stopping to admire each and every thread on each and every bead on each and every garment - I declared that I didn't like any of them.

While my mother and I were bickering, one of the attendants started approaching us. Immediately, my mother ran off at lightning speed. I was, to say the least, perplexed. The guy had just wanted us to sign a membership form! After I put a fake number on the card, I ran over to my mother who was hiding behind some handbag stand.

Me:           Amma, what happened? Why did you just run off like that!
Amma:     I thought he was going to catch us.
Me:           What? Why? Why would he catch us?
Amma:    No, I thought he saw the bag in your hand and thought the milk packet was a bomb.
Me:           .....soooooo you were going to leave me to get caught by these guys and run away?
Amma:    Haha I know!
Me:           ....carrying the milk that YOU bought? Seriously?
Amma:    Hey I gave birth to you. You cannot do this much for me? Vaaya moodu (shut up)!

Mission Impossible V - The IPL story

Mission: Get on TV during IPL match

Tools needed:

1) Tickets for CSK vs RCB. Check.
2) Dent in bank account. To be specific, a Rs. 1375 dent for the "Bagpiper special view". Check.
3) Hot friend(more probability of getting the camera to land on us). Check.
4) Weird props for cheerleading. Well, not really but hoping to grab some props from other spectators when they aren't looking. Check.

Preparation for the mission:
1) Tell everyone in office, including the China headquarters that I am going for the match. Check.
2) Dilly dally at work(in anticipation of the match, of course). Check.
3) Leave office at 4. Cash....I mean, Check.

Ideas that we flirted with:
1) Sit in a stand dominated by RCB supporters wearing red, while we wear yellow and support CSK. Smells like a death wish.
2) Hope for Gayle to smash a 6 so that one of us gets hit by the ball and we get admitted to the hospital. And then Gayle, along with the rest of the players come to visit us. Irrational much?
3) Get hot friend to gyrate sexily so that the spy cam spots us. Well, no luck there.

What really happened:
1) Cheering for CSK did not work. The RCB supporters started throwing their cheerleading props at us.
2) 1375? You would expect a nice seat. Well, the joke's on you. They were plastic Nilkamal chairs that creaked and groaned when you sat on them. I think it's because the rain weakened the molecular integrity of those chairs. Hmmm.
3) The match kept getting delayed. At about 10, we realized the match wouldn't happen since it was 2 hours behind schedule. So we trampled on many RCB fans' toes(the highlight of the evening) and managed to get out of the stadium.

The moment we were outside, the stadium erupted with noise and when we looked up we saw a little boy waving an RCB flag and calling everyone back. Naturally, being in the same stadium as 50,000 other people, you form a bond of mutual trust with them. So we ran back in.
At 10:45, the match got cancelled due to rain.

If you thought Mission Impossible IV was a flop, you thought wrong buddy.

Love Guru

Hello dear readers!

Yes yes, I am very much alive, unlike this blog. I was just having a rough couple of days. Deadlines
whooshing by and work stagnating in a half-baked state...not a good turn of events, my friend. Now that
I have realized work is never going to progress, I decided to pour my feelings out on this entertaining
(ahem) page. So, what am I going to be jabbering about today? Ah yes...single-dom and the makings of a
love guru.

I am a single lady. I would like to think it's because I am too 'independent' and 'strong' to be tied
down to some one. But basically it's because I have foot-in-the-mouth AND food-in-the-mouth
syndrome. However, let me clarify that I am not one of those 'Why doesn't he love me!?! I am forever
ALONE!' types. I genuinely have no interest in such shenanigans.

What's interesting is that even though I have never actually been in a relationship, people seem to look
up to me for advice. And I have no idea why. Apparently I give good advice and though it might not look
the case, I do keep my mouth zipped.

So how does one become a love guru?

•     No prior relationships:
  It's just like being a professor in my college...no prior experience and no knowledge about the subject whatsoever. Helps get an untainted perspective.

•     Bucket loads of patience:
  Seriously. Bucket loads. Buckets that can hold the tears shed by all the women in all Ekta Kapoor soaps. Because lets face it...people who are in relationships are stupid and unless you spell out everything for them a gazillion times, they're never going to understand.

•     A sympathetic ear:
  Breakups are inevitable. And once that happens, you will have to sit through a recap of their love story, what went wrong, who was wrong(obviously, the guy) and how the other person was the love of their life(do not point out that they went out for just 2 weeks). Even carbon dating will fall short while determining how long this saga will take.

•     The 'Awww' hormone: 
  Extremely important. He sent you a rose for Valentine's Day? Awww. He started watching Gossip Girls for you(of course, he's not watching it for Blake Lively's legs)? Awww. He said you looked like a Queen(although Queen Elizabeth is as old as a fossil)? Awww. See what I mean?

Damn...if only I got paid for my troubles.
       

Mom Calling

Phone rings.

Me: Hello amma...
Amma(talking to my brother): Aaan, thirrpi pizza order pannanamaa? (Oh, you want to order pizza again?)
Me: Hellooo hellooo amma!
Amma(still talking to him): Poda pichchu pichchu poduven...pizza-kuzza chi!!! (Get lost I will tear tear and throw you....pizzaa-schmizza yuck!!!)
Me: AMMMAAA!
Amma: Ennadi (What)? I am not deaf. Why are you shouting?
Me: Because you only wer.....gah, never mind!
Amma: Aaan. You had dinner?
Me:  Yeah I had.
Amma: What you had?
Me: Pav Bhaji at home / Out with friends.
Amma: Yesterday also you had that only, no? / How many times you go out?
Me: Yeah...leftovers. / Not much Amma!
Amma: Better you go out and eat. / Why you have a kitchen? Cook and eat at home!
Me: Mmmm.
Amma: You know Sarika?
Me: Eh? Who Sarika?
Amma: Arey! SARIKA!
Me: Shouting the name isn't helping, Amma! Who is she?
Amma: Appa's cousin sister's sister-in-law's daughter! You met her last summer, remember?
Me(Thinking thinking thinking...who the hell is this Sarika? ARGH play it cool...just say you know her): Oooh yeah heerrrr.
Amma: Podi, I know you don't remember! After few years, when I come to your house you will not remember me also! Then will you ask me "Who are you?", huh?
Me: Come on Amma...there's a very small chance of that happening!
Amma: Small chance aa? Adi paavi(you sinner)...anyways, about Sarika...you keep distracting me...
Me: Me? Ok whatever...tell.
Amma: Sarika just got engaged last week.
Me(entering dangerous waters. Must. Tread. Carefully): Mmmm.
Amma: She is your age...
Me(she is laying the trap. Do. Not. Fall. For. It): Mmmm.
Amma: What 'Mmmm'. You keep saying that only all the time.
Me: Mmmm.
Amma: Podi. She is getting married soon.
Me: Oh good for her.
Amma: Yeah. IT IS GOOD FOR HER.
Me: Yeah very good. I am so jealous of her.

Shit shit shit what have I done! Sarcasm with Mother India...BAD IDEA! ABORT ABORT!

Amma: Jealous? You are jealous? YOU are jealous? I don't know you or what...one day you HAVE to get married, okay? Jealous it seems. Let ME tell you something. When I was....

And it goes on and on for five whole minutes.


Amma: ...so don't think too much of yourself, okay?
Me: Mmmm.
Amma: Started 'Mmmm again'. I don't know why I call you. Keep the phone!
Me: Ok bye Am...

----CUT----

Repeat ad infinitum!

Murphy's Law for IT Professionals in Figures

I cannot tell you how many times the first one has happened to me. When I am absolutely sure of nothing but the error's occurrence(so that I can file it as a bug), this happens.

Also, the law of Non-overlapping of Office Timings.

Working is not all that cracked up as I imagined. Especially since my Facebook life is more exciting than my real life.

And of course, the inescapable 5-day Bell Curve. My apologies...doesn't look like a bell curve but imagine the lines are rounded at the peak.

If you have any, you can always contribute through the comments section.

Bananas, Dosas and Mallikas

I have a few points that don't merit a post by themselves, so I thought I'd put them all together. Also, I wanted to give my readers something to read. Fine fine, you caught me...I wanted to update the blog so I posted this. Now run along and read. Or better yet, read and then promote my blog y'all ;)

• Yesterday when I was in office at around 7:30 P.M.(still), I coughed. You should know that when I cough, Rajnikanth closes his ears.
  Anyway, I rushed home as fast as I could. I wanted to hit the sack as soon as possible(after eating Maggi and watching half a season of Dexter, that is). And guess what I see right next to my building?
  A cultural program(that's not so bad), where people were singing(the fuck...that guy just raped Rahman's song!) and cheap guys were standing all around(I am not even hot, what the hell is wrong with you!).
  Well, being the optimist that I am I just plugged in the earphones and watched Dexter hack a guy to death with a mallet. Ah peace.
  At about 10:30 P.M., I decided to sleep after drugging myself. I had heard somewhere that sarakku helps during a cold. But then I had weird thoughts like "What if the stuff reacts with the medicines I just took and bursts in the stomach the way Pepsi and Mentos kills people?", so I decided against it.
  There was no noise outside so I assumed the program was over. And that is when a man announced that they would be singing Kalasala Kalasala.
  
  Kalasala Kalasala Kalasala Kalasala
  Oh god no.
  Mallika is cold like a cucumber
  Pillow on face.
  My dear darling, Mallika is calling you
  Am I actually trying dance along with the song by varying my breathing patterns? STOP IT!


• This next point might get me into trouble because a lot of people related to me read this blog. But whatever. So recently I met one US return and you know how I feel about them. I tried being civil though. We went out for some good ol' South Indian breakfast and this person orders a dosa.
  And then you know what this person says? "Like, oh my god, this place is so authentic! Look how the dosa is...so authentic. Wow so messy....and so authentic". Every time that person said the word authentic with that irritating throaty tone, I wanted to wring that person's neck. But like the good girl I am, I kept quiet and inhaled two dosas faster than light.  


• Recently, I was taking the help of a superior. I was supposed to produce 2 files result1 and result2 which were strikingly similar. So I by mistake produced the same file twice and saved it as A and B What happened next is one of the funniest things that has happened to me since joining work.
  
  S: So which file is result1?
  Me: A is result1.
  S: And what is B?
  Me: result2.
  S: But looks like A and B is the same.
  Me: Nope.
  S: Wait. Look at the files. Now tell me...what is A?
  Me: result1.
  S: And B?
  Me: result....oh. It's result1 only.
  S: You watch tamizh movies?
  Me: Yeah. Why?
  S(laughing): Because this is like the vazhapazham comedy.

         Sooooo funny and embarrassing at the same time!

Players - The Review

Me: I am bored.
Amma: *Rolling her eyes* Oh, what a surprise. If you're bored, come help me in the kitchen no?
Me: Please...I am not that bored.
Amma: Fate! Idhukku oru chedi vechirindha poo aoodhu vandhurkum. Cha vaadi!(Translation: Instead of you, if I had kept a plant, at least I would've got flowers. Cha come here!)
Me: Ammaaaaaaa, I am watching something important on TV. I can't come!
Brother: Are you watching Godzilla on Sun TV?

And that is how, ladies and gentleman, I ended up in the theater to watch Players. Why anyone would watch the movie is as big a mystery as why anyone would want to see Veena Malik nude.But that's another story. So, the star power behind this script is:

Abhishek Bachchan: Playing the gay mastermind for the zth time. He plans the entire heist. He changes it whenever he wants. He wears pink shirts over orange pants with floral stoles. He is the man. And both Bipasha and Sonam are in love with him. Why do women always go for guys who aren't available?

Bobby Deol: He plays the illusionist. And what a great job he does...halfway through the movie he disappears, saving the audience a world of Bobby-related pain. For this very reason, he is my favourite character in the movie.

Sikander Kher: He appears in a dual role, playing a bomb expert and a plank of wood all at the same time! It's just not as easy as it looks, eh Mr. Kher? He is not just half-deaf in this movie. He is also half-dumb, judging by the number of dialogues he has.

Bipasha Basu: According to the trailer, she is a con artist. But I think that's a typo...she is actually the cans artist judging by the size and visibility of that rack. However, I have to admit Ms. Basu helped the director duo with their tight budget by sacrificing all her clothes. The sweetheart. Say it with me, people....Awwwwwwww!

Sonam Kapoor: Gold medalist in Computer Science? Fine. Such a good driver that she opts for circular parking instead of parallel parking(Check out 1:05-1:12)? I can accept that too. But what I cannot digest, is Sonam Kapoor's acting. She has just two expressions in the movie:

1. BFD(Before Father's Death): Happy and vomiting sunshine everywhere
2. AFD(After Father's Death): Constipation

Omi Vaidya: The comedian and the saving grace of the movie, Omi is a breath of fresh air in this otherwise stale, recycled script.

Neil Nitin Mukesh: The hacker. Although he does less of hacking and more of back-stabbing and chick-banging. After he turns villain, it's almost impossible to bear him because all he does is speak to his voice-controlled house(technology at its very ridiculous worst) in a sexy voice saying "Open the door, baby", "Next picture, baby", "Rub my neck, baby"...well, not the last one but you get the idea.

And this motley crew comes together in the following plot:

- Gold being transported from Russia to ^some place I forget^ by train

- Players get together to formulate a plan that will put Kindergarteners to shame. They get a train to run parallel to the gold train and steal the gold. By the way, the gold train has all sorts of protection. It has 3 boogies- the first and last contain horny Russian commandos(why horny? Because more than paying attention to the gold being transported, they are immersed talking to their partners) and the one in the middle contains the gold. Funny thing is the middle boogie has only 4 armed highly trained Russian commandos who are easily defeated by unarmed Abhishek's graceful ballet kick. Yup. Just THE man!

- Neil turns psycho back stabber and kills everyone. How do Abhishek, deaf guy and Omi escape after swimming in glacial water? Ah, silly viewer! The director duo has taken care of all the gaping potholes in the script by giving a scenic backdrop. So while they swim in water cold enough to yield polar bear Popsicles, the audience is shown the virgin blanket of snow in Russia.
How is it that Neil can smuggle an entire cupboard of gold easily while you have to declare that measly gold chain you're wearing at airport customs? Feast your eyes on the beautiful Auckland skyline!
How does a Russian General sing Raj Kapoor songs with ease? Shame on you...Bipasha is dancing in a costume which even Mowgli of Jungle Book wouldn't wear and you are bothered about the Russian General? Fool!

- Abhishek and his Players get the gold back from Neil. How? Sonam flaunts her assets while the rest of the Players steal the gold. They drive the most conspicuous cars in the universe(red, yellow and blue mini coopers) to transport the gold to Johnny Lever's garage.
In the process, Bipasha is shown to be in cahoots with Neil, and she is shot at the end. And Sonam shoots Neil for killing her father. Why didn't I mention the father before? Tsk tsk, don't get hung up on the technicalities.

- In his last few breaths, Neil informs the Russian mafia(whaaaaaaaaaat? I thought there was only Italian mafia!) that the Players have escaped with the gold. The mafia confront the Players who are now driving the mini coopers. When they check the  cars however, there's no gold. *GASP*
Where could it be? Here comes the final(thank the lord) twist in the story...remember that loose end about the cars being in Johnny Lever's garage? Well, he made three mini coopers of gold. Vechchaan aapu directoru!

And that is how Players provided me enough entertainment and motivation to come up with a blog post. Thank you, Abbas-Mustan. Thank you so much!

- Happy New Year to all my readers :)

Games People Play

Office is boring. Seriously. Most of my work involves waiting. Waiting for a superior to criticize my work. Waiting for lunch time to arrive. Waiting for the distraction that will occupy my team giving me the chance to escape. You get the idea! So, creative people like me find ways to pass time in office. Like:

• How many soggy Monaco biscuits can I pick up in a single draw?
  This game gets me nostalgic, teary-eyed and bad-mouthed because it reminds me of 'The Claw' game in cheesy arcades. I have never ever won anything from that game. That sucker must have swallowed half my pocket money(and my pocket money wasn't much to begin with). At least at office, these expired biscuits are for free.





• Staring at the one hot girl who is on your floor(yay)
  Thank God for small miracles. And by that I mean mini-skirts. Because let me tell you, this girl is hot. Even the women in my office cannot keep their eyes off of her. Yes, when she passes by I feel like I am choking to death because she smells like she took bath with perfume in a bathroom full of scented candles and used a towel made of rose petals, but the view compensates for it.
  Of course it is kinda awkward when your male teammate's eyes and your eyes follow Hot Girl. And unfortunately, your eyes meet and both of you are calling each other "PERVERT" in your mind. I imagine this is how guys feel about making eye contact at urinals.




•  Stalk. Stalk. Stalk. And then stalk some more.
  Stalkers these days really have it easy, I tell you. Facebook has made things so much easier.
  No more following the person around all day to know what they're doing. Your Object Of Desire(OOD) might just check in to watch Twilight:Breaking Dawn with a caption like "Team Edward xoxo"(if you still like her after all this, you suck. Geddit? Geddit? Ah forget it!).
  No more hiding in bushes to see your OOD sleeping. Her Facebook profile picture collection is enough. Who looks good when they're sleeping, anyway?




• Tab switching.
  This should just speak for itself. You can do whatever shit you want in office, as long as you don't get caught. The secret here is reflexes. Also the thumb rule is:
  
  If you want to check out Mitchell Johnson's abs,
  Make sure you have other Wikipedia/Google tabs.
  
  Pretty simple, innit? Discretion is advised in office. And you don't want your manager staring at you staring at that ripped stomach. Droooooooooooooooooooooool.

Slip ups

You know what a foot in the mouth situation is, don't you? It happens when you say or do something extremely stupid and then you realize it a minute later when you see the amused/shocked expressions on people's faces around you and then you just go on to make it worse. Well, yours truly(and my friends around me too) have been involved in many such situations. A small compilation for you to laugh at our expense!

Note: These friends haven't been notified that I am writing this stuff. So I am using initials, like I always do.

1)
Where: Rockfort Train -Trichy to Chennai
When: College, 1st year
Who: Yours Truly
What: I always wake up an hour before the train reaches the destination. You know, what with my luck with travel I figured it would be better not to wake up in the middle of the jungle and have Demento...oh that's a whole other story. Anyways, there I am sleeping and I wake up the entire compartment with my alarm. I decide to take a quick nap. Well, needless to say when I wake up I see "Mambalam" pulling away.
I grab my suitcases and go to the door and see this guy framing the door and trying to give some hero pose. I tell him to move. And he says the train's moving. So I say "DUH! Get out and help me get my luggage down!". And after muttering "Loosu. Paityam." a million times he gets off and starts running along the train. And I threw my suitcases at him. He gets in and tells me I am mad(not a new discovery, buddy). I stood there figuring out at what speed and how long I should run after I jump out the train(Physics genius, man). So I jumped.
One small hiccup...I forgot which direction to run in. I end up running in the direction opposite to the motion of the train and I fell flat on my face. And my uncle who was supposed to pick me up along with half of Chennai were there to see me sprawled spread-eagled kissing the platform. Bummer.


2)
Where: Karate Class
When: College, 2nd year
Who: R, my very close friend
What: This senior guy's teaching us some kicks, right. And he goes on to teach us the groin kick. The barn was really noisy so we couldn't really hear but once he started showing us the kick, we *ahem* knew what it was called. But not R. Nooooooo! The following conversation ensued and I swear to God it's the funniest thing I have ever heard.
R: What is it called?
S(Senior guy): Umm groin kick.
R: Oh row-end kick?(I know. I have no idea how she heard that.)
S: Yes yes groin kick.
R: So the direction of force of the kick is upwards?
S: *Getting increasingly uncomfortable at this point* Yes yes.
R: So it's used to push IT up?
All of us were like "R, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DIGGING YOUR OWN GRAVE?! SHUT UP!"
S: Uh yes it is to push it up(looking at the ceiling, floor, anywhere where we girls weren't there)
Needless to say, when we later told R what the name of the kick was, she was suicidal. It was funny for us though :P

3)
Where: My room
When: College, 2nd year
Who: Yours truly
What: You thought that only Apple users have difficulty in typing because of auto-correct? Nokia should feature in that list too, I tell you. We were giddy with power in 2nd year because we could rag juniors now. We weren't the lowest layer of scum anymore..yay! But I took ragging to another level. I was just messaging some junior girl(forgot who...but whoever it is, she must be scarred for life) to ask her to come to my room. So I type "Hey, come to my room."(I know..I'm so awesome I use commas and fullstops while typing) and I send it.
A little background information about me before I go on. People think I am gay. People call me Gay. Guess it's convenient since my name is Gaya and all. So this point is twice as funny. Moving on.
Little did I know that I had pressed the button below the one that contains the letter H. So in the end, the message read "Sex, come to my room.". I think that day I gave the word "ragging" a whole new dimension.

I'm in a relationship

Yes, people. I am in a relationship. And it sucks. Why are people so desperate to get committed, I say? Idiots all these people. And now I am one of them.
Oh you wanna know his name? Sure sure. His name is WORK. Though I do call him pain in the ass affectionately. The similarities between a boyfriend and work are striking.

• So, initially work was awesome. That is, I hardly had any. What I had was Freedom. To do what I want, when I want, how I want. Yes, in between I had to pretend like I knew stuff and read a few links here and there to impress but no huge ramifications came out of it.
  I am guessing this is what they call the honeymoon period in relationships, eh?


• Then, the whole jealous phase started. Trying to draw me away from my friends so that I pay more attention to pain in the ass. Setting "deadlines". Taking top priority by reminding me that he is the one who pays for my food.


• Getting me to question my life style.
  - Do you really think drinking that is a good idea?
  - Night show? Will you be able to wake up in time?
  - You cannot go home so soon. Important meeting. Muhahaha.

And many other similarities which I cannot remember right now because I am so bugged with pain in the ass. Of course, work does have its moments. Like this one time when I completed work before a deadline and I thought I was the next Mark Zuckerberg. Yeeeeeaaaaaah, that feeling didn't last long. Here I am before another deadline, writing rather than working because I have no idea what the frick I am working on. Now, isn't that just sad? The only thing making this worthwhile? It's the Ka-Ching. Yeah, I am such a sellout.

P.S.: Murphy's Law's favourite victim is me! I swear. The other day I was watching Eminem's Superman video. Which is probably the worst video to watch when you're in office. EVER. And suddenly I hear my manager's voice so I close the Mozilla window. Phew crisis averted. Or not. Because just then my manager looks at my laptop. And I turned to my laptop and see Eminem mounting the stupid blonde. And a pop-up from Mozilla asking me if I am sure if I want to close all 6 tabs. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

What We Say, What Parents Hear

In case, my parents are reading this: Love you :) :P

1. I am going out with my friends.
   And by friends, of course I mean, lots of boys. So please keep calling every ten minutes.
   
2. There's this guy in my office.
   And the fact that I disclosed the gender, obviously means I am going to marry him very soon. Oh and he isn't even TamBrahm. How's that for rubbing it in, huh?
   
3. Today was such a bad day at office. I just want to stop working.
   Take. Horoscope. Now!
   
4. I'm feeling quite hungry.
   Means I did not have breakfast, lunch and dinner.Don't even think about the most logical reason: I have the appetite of a woolly mammoth. No way, Jose!
   
5. How is she pregnant so soon? She got married less than a year back!
   Don't mistake this as a rhetorical question. I really want to hear you say "You're too small to know such things" to your 22-year old daughter!
   
   
6. I was just watching a scary movie. But it wasn't scary at all.
   Although secretly it was. So scary that now I want you to tell me to pray to God, put Vibhuthi on my forehead, drink warm milk before sleeping and keep chanting Ram Ram.
   
   
7. I got my salary today.
   And I finished spending all of it today.
   
8. Oh my god, Ranbir Kapoor is so hot!
   Please tell me about how he must have slept with a 1000 girls. Yes, that will change my mind. After all, that is what girls look for when they fantasize about hot guys. Gayness Decency.
   
   
9. Ah I have nothing to do. Just relaxing at home during the weekend.
   
   I feel so lonely. Could you please call everyone you know in my city and tell them I am coming to visit even though it takes me 2 hours to just get there? You already did that? Gee, thanks mom!
   
10. *No answer on the phone*
    I am extremely angry with you. No, I am dying. Oh wait wait, I am dead already!
    
    

How to make a Ra.One

Well, Ra.One has raked in the big bucks. And I mean BIG bucks all over the world. This movie has brought Bollywood "on par" with Hollywood - now isn't that what we want?
Anyhoo, considering that there are many horrible movies coming up in Bollywood(think Himesh Reshammiya's/Akshay Kumar's upcoming ventures), I decided to rescue the fate of Bollywood, G.One style! I have the foolproof recipe to prepare a blockbuster. Film makers, take notice!

Ingredients

• 1 Hero - And I am talking about a manly hero, through and through. In the real sense of the word, you know. With shaped eyebrows, botoxed skin, make-up to cover the wrinkles, and last but not the least, a 6-pack. Because a hero isn't a hero till his stomach looks like a Hershey's chocolate bar
  
  
• 1 Heroine - Buxom, should smile and shy away quite a bit, has a slight hint of ambition but gives it all up to support the hero, should dance and sing AND drop clothes(in a foreign location) when a song comes on
  
• 1 Villain - Should be bald and have a better body than the hero, should have tattoos or piercings(because nothing else effectively screams bad guy), should kidnap someone close to hero
  
• 1 Rich Guy - Should have straight hair, should wear suits(preferably with colours and materials such aluminium foil and animal prints), should have sold his soul to the devil. This character can also be combined with the villain's character sometimes
  
• 1 Kid - Should have the illusion of innocence. Note how I say illusion here. He can openly cuss, insult elders, etc. as long as his height is under 5 feet and he drinks Horlicks in the morning
  
• A Pinch of Racist Humour - Where will Bollywood go with this kind of humour? The answer is: It will go places. Seriously, just throw in an over-enthusiastic, overweight Punjaabi/a Tamilian(or Mallu or Telugu...doesn't matter. In the end, we are all Madrasis anyway) saying Aiyyo before and after every word/an Assamese being mistaken for a foreigner and you are set to go
  
• 1 Item Song - It doesn't even have to be that good. Just make sure everyone in the song covers only 10% of their body and the heroine's face is stuck mid-orgasm. That is all.
  
• Absolutely No Logic - Everyone knows that when watching Bollywood films, they should leave their brains at home. So don't waste logic on the Indian audience.
  
• Guest Appearances to Taste - Depends on how much you can afford. See the way in Ra.One Piggy Chops, dressed very tastefully I may add, screamed in ecstasy "Oh Yeah", "Oooh you are the king", "Come on"(porno much!?!)...if you want something like that, you'll pretty much need to sell your house and throw in a kidney or two
  
• Over-the-freaking-top-acting - Guaranteed Filmfare
  
• Some Hollywood Technician - Seriously, this will work wonders. Get a tea boy from Hollywood and in an interview say, "Mr. Howard Poopie-pants, a revered technician from Hollywood is also part of our team. He has interacted with Hollywood stars like Johnny Depp on the sets of POC!". Add a few Wikipedia articles about Mr. Howard Poopie-pants and you're done!
  
  
  And our main ingredient,
  
• Marketing - Put up posters of your film everywhere. Don't even leave out the public urinals. Android phones era, right? Create an app for your film. Smell someone's underwear. Endorse for the nariyal paani wala near your house. Sell yourself on the eBay. Whatever it takes to get people into the theater.

Just throw the above into a blender and Voila! The blockbuster of the year is ready to bash in the audience's skulls and make them want to kill themselves!!

He Who Must Not Write A.K.A. Chetan Bhagat

So, Revolution 2020 has come out. It's total bullshit. I haven't read it, of course. I have learnt my lesson after his other books. Take a look below.

So I know I should not waste 84 Rupees on Revolution 2020.

I thought that I had company when it came to hating India's most "loved" author. And I picked up that adjective from his website. So when I come across articles like these, it disturbs me. Let me clear the air shrouding the Chetan Bhagat success a little.

(The statements in bold are more or less borrowed from the article I have linked to)

His books sell lakhs of copies.

I remember crying myself to sleep after watching the movie Ready. Salman's histronics, Asin's blotchy face and the other motley characters dancing to the tunes of Salman made me suicidal. What's worse? Ready broke all box-office records. Which were in turn broken by Bodyguard. Which were in turn broken by Ra.One(I am not even going to link you to the Ra.One trailer. It has had enough promotion!). Do you see where I am going with this?

CB's books are the same.

His style of writing is indeed simple with minimum use of vocabulary.

Simple writing and minimum use of vocabulary, I can deal with. But when I read any sentence written by CB, I feel like taking a Basilisk Fang and shoving it into the book. He just uses a combination of IIT-IIM lin

go, "Indianisms", Hari/Arvind/Rahul(like Tom/Dick/Harry), verbs and connectors(like and,or,etc.). Anyone can write like him. Hari asked for a Paratha free of charge(Indianism) at dhaba(lingo) -> See?

People are able to relate to characters from his novels.

I have never been able to relate to any of the female characters in his books. Is it because they have no personality and they are poorly developed? And when I say poorly developed I mean character-wise, not looks-wise. Because his description pertaining to the physical aspects of the girl is a mind-blowing summary of what Indian men look for in women. So,

CB heroine = Fair skin + Long hair + 36-24-36 42-24-36 + Conservative outside, progressive inside + H-U-G-E libido + half-cooked backstory + crazy as shit

And how about the male characters? We have of course:
1) The Over-achiever who makes Edward Cullen look like the dirt under his shoes.
2) The Village Idiot.
3) The hero who is slightly over-weight, has no balls at all and gets the girl(though why the girl goes for him when we have Edward Cullen in the equation is totally unknown to me)

Yet his books inspire, give us hope and teach us to take risks.

True. They inspire other Indian authors to write books that should be used to start bonfires. They give hope to anyone who can string a sentence with a few words to believe that they can be authors. And they have taught people like me to take risks and buy one more CB book. Atleast I can use them as paper weights.

Funny Story: The other day, my friend and I are walking down the street and she was telling me that she wanted to read Revolution 2020. Although I did want to terminate my friendship with her at that point, I smiled and pointed towards a man who was sitting near a bedsheet laden with Revolution 2020s and other books.

Me: Bhaiyya, kitna?
Bhaiyya: 120.
Me(to my friend): Hah. We can get it for 84 Rupees on Flipkart. Come.
The man starts shouting while we walk away.
Bhaiyya: Madam, 100 mein lelo.
No response.
Bhaiyya: Achcha, 80.
No response.
Bhaiyya: 50!
No response.
Bhaiyya: Achcha Madam, 20 Rupees mein tho lelo.
We burst out laughing!