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Saturday, April 30, 2011

Belief or Wait......From Where? :)

That one statement lends itself to a myriad of interpretations.

The difference between awaiting and waiting………what is it?

Got to hand it to females, they are good with words, good with anagrams, interpreting silences, pauses, tones and even laughs. I love their company, and I seem to get along well with them. Well............some of them :)

I was posed this question today, on a call, with a female. Imagination is allowed to take control if ………you do plan to read ahead. 

What do we await?
We await happiness, we “await” for good things. “Awaiting” is always with hope. We “await” for a good word from the boss. We await luck, we await arrival of a friend, and we “await”, the next trip to family. You see, “awaiting” is always in the positive sense. Never is the anticipated outcome expected to derive anything other than a smile, a laugh or a sense of contentment.

However we wait for the cooker to give its quick whistles signaling the meals is ready. We wait for the heater to warm up the water, we wait for the serpentine queue of metal boxes to move, we wait for a firang to understand that 2+2 = 2X2 = 4.We wait for the sermon from some wise guy to get over.

That was some quick thinking I could give on the call. This elicited a laugh. It was genuine; so it was I think the right thing to say. The devil as I am, I could resist a golden opportunity to score some brownie points, “So my dear, it was this smile that I was awaiting for, not waiting, hope you can understand”.

"I think I believe you Srikant".

Damm that’s mushy, I don’t like mush. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

Time to hit back……..(a swat ..........needs a swat................ a hug......... necessitates a reciprocating hug that sweeps off the feet and intellect .............needs a bit of wit in response!)

"Well that is good, but dear, belief you know is very dicey. It is satisfying no doubt about it, a little bit frightening and a lot demanding. What scores among these actually depends on where the belief comes from"

"Where does it come from, what do you mean?"

"Well belief in someone/something can come from two places, either from the head or from the heart. It is the source of this belief that is important rather than the belief itself."


"Well, you see when there is a heart belief, it is irrational, subjective and a lot dense and utterly unpredictable. But on the positive side it stays , it does not depend on one action or activity, it is not transient but lasting. For example, you pick up a fight with say your mother (I heard females do that a lot, irrespective of age!), but you know that when things calm down, she would believe you, stand by you, support in what you want, or whatever you did.

But when, belief comes from the head, it is rationally driven and very objective.However on the flip side, it is transient. You may not trust the belief always, it comes and goes. One action it springs, another it disappears.

So, tell me if you do believe me, which btw is dangerous, for you never believe a guy who is in the business of hustling, but that’s where we are not going today. Where we are ........actually is to know where this belief comes from?"

Long silence………I am becoming good with them, so I stretched it longer……But, I knew the response, in fact I was willing to bet on to a strip dance by me in the middle of Garuda mall on a Saturday.I even knew the exact phrasing.

"Well, here it is both …I guess".

Bingo!! No strip dance, but that I already knew.

However I did not anticipate, a sudden post script, to the above non binary response.

"Well ............right now it is heart".

Damm, I spilled my rather hot tea…..for this I did not expect.

The silence this time was uncomfortable and I did not want to stretch it.

"So, is it shopping again for today"(females love to talk about shopping ....anytime!!)

"Yea, got to get something for another social event" a hurried response.

"Good for you, catch up with you later then".

"Yea we will do that".

So if you have read this long, on a Saturday, tell me……………

Is there nothing you await........................ ???????????!!!!!!!

Or better still……….. Do you wait, or rather do you await for the weekend, do you wait or await for the Monday morning. And irrespective of the “a” do you believe in whatever “ing” you have, that is do you believe in whatever is it  you wait or await, and if so do you believe it from your heart or your head.

Ponder on…if desired…. Else scotch is always there, if the outcomes to the above thoughts are not merry….. Ho…….. Ho………. Ho…….. !!

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Studs and Sluts

Now this is again over a cup of coffee. I seem to be developing a fetish for “Devils Own”. I was sitting with D and another third party acquaintance, when the sight of a long stare directed towards me noticed by Mr. Third Party acquaintance.

“Someone has been observing you”, I got the intimation.

“Hope that is a structurally conformal female”, I retort.

“In fact it is”, he quipped.

It was an effort to keep my eyes as they were without trying to glance at the source of the stare.

Well, that was just a transient lapse in our seemingly dense discussion. 

Weekly/Bi-weekly, when I meet D would have read up some real dense gyaan and would like to show it off to me. He seems to derive pleasure from the fact that a lone alphabet (i.e. “D”) in the queens language would figure out in digital media. I am of course referring to the fact......... that he knows.......... if I am happy with the gyaan........... I would share it.

“You see we are a hypocritical male dominated society, where females have been considered objects of pleasure and lust to be used and discarded at will”, came the vehement argument from D.

A man engages in “Wham Bham”, (bugger gave a slight physical demonstration, from his sitting position),before the occurrence of a social norm called, ”Marriage” he is considered a stud, but the same when applied to a female she is branded as a slut”.

Why is he sounding like a misguided feminist who just lost her vibrator toy, I was wondering.

“Hahahahahaha …. Got you didn’t I?”……………. said D.

“Well there is a reason and a very strong reason for the same.It isn’t the dominance of males or the societal norms, it is the fact that there is an inherent difference between sexes, their approach ..........their thought and ..........their corresponding actions”.

I am sipping the cream, hoping that the Devil plays his part soon.

“You know us males……..” I raised an eyebrow, when he generalized the statement.

“Ok Mr. Freud, I am not hiding behind a collective identity, to mask some of my personal short comings, I got proof as well”, D says.

Damm the D, he knows what I am thinking.

He continues “Males think about mating/sex all the time.We like visuals for pleasure that explains out penchant for nice movies.You know a woman would always like dark for the act and a man would always want to see it.

Thus, when we actually indulge in the act it is like the end for us, the outcome of a seemingly long thought process.For us mating is just one act, which needs to be completed, that is we desire instant gratification. In fact that is one of the reasons as to why we turn over to one side than indulge in cuddling etc after the coup de grace.

That kind of a description got to be true, it can be the result of just imagination.

So I say,” The veteran, speaks out........ huh D”.

“You know it pretty well”, he says slightly irritated at being interrupted.

“However for females it is exactly the opposite. They don’t think about sex at all, they don’t like visuals, rather words, sounds, that explain their fondness for Mills & Boons and bass male tones. A structurally conformal Adonis, contrary to popular perception isn’t a turn on for them”.

“Aha that explains why Adnan Sami got all the females when he was a giant and now you rarely see him with one”, I interject again.

This time D laughs.

Continuing he says “For females mating is an act leading to a beginning. Since the thought of mating is lower in frequency than for us, they expect a lot from the outcome of the act as well as the act itself. Males indulge in, it for instant gratification, so they don’t invest a lot in the process; however females invest a part of their identity, their soul in the act. With that kind of investment in something, it is hard to regain normalcy or depth, if the relationship doesn’t work out”.

Hence, the classification of a a stud for us, and a characterless slut for them.

Man, D is smart and D is intelligent and D............ is an ass hole.

I retort, “You can rationalize any thought, you are smart, and I will admit that your reasoning sounds logical, but somehow I am not convinced”.

“You can believe what you want, but you cant fight logic and reason”, he says with a  smile.

At this point the female who was observing, us, got to depart with her gang. She made it near to us and in a sweeping motion, turns to me and says,” Dude, you are the guy from blogadda, on their notable newbie list, the mindtrends one?

Waah waah, am famous.

I blushed!! And I was happy at that time for my dark complexion, and thankful that the fairness creams are not very effective.

I hope she asks for an autograph, or maybe a snap, anything to cherish the moment of meeting me.

“I read the one of different types of foods, it is nice man and also the one on origin of life on earth, but I did not really relish the one on hookers. This person D seems quite interesting”.

Damm….It was like lighting a cracker and then pouring water all over it. It was D who was appreciated.

Well, you can meet D right now, I was about to say, as I got a warning glare from D , which clearly said “Shut the hell up”.

“Well, has it occurred to you that this D might be a figment of my imagination, an alternate identity for me?”, I queried sweetly.

“I don’t think so”, she said with finality in her tone.

“Thanks for reading through, and sharing your thoughts. Frankly, I never expected someone to walk up to me in a coffee shop and tell me about my blog”, I smiled my modesty to her.

She just smiled and waved her hand as she walked away.

“D, you are famous now, this calls for a celebration” I said as she was well out of sight and sound.

“I don’t need more people now, I am happy the way I am, and I am warning you……… never reveal my name else……….. I will curse you”, he says without even looking at me.

I was scared …………he knew a little bit of Tantra as well.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Brrrrrrrrrrrr !!!

The business case is compelling, make something worth 10 paisa, spend 500 times the amount in convincing the people that it is worth 1000 times the amount, and pocket the difference.

Now I will rely on my memory to quickly trace the growth and evolution of a brand. (Say “Bingo” if you can spot it already)

1. Scene 1 – T0 – Smart MBA enters into marketing of FMCG. 

It’s hot and hotter; can I have something cold to cool me?

But of course – Thanda matlab

Thanks to Amir Khan, two years numbers are met, (and so is my incentive)

2. Scene 2 - What after two years? 

Now forget about, it is obvious that you will pick up a coke when you want something cold, the question is will you pick it up in any other case?

Anytime you wanted to celebrate – Jashn mana le

Hrithik Roshan says  - fret not for 3 years.
Ok, OK, Mr. Smart Product/Brand manager, you have earned your big fat salary and done justice to your MBA degree, but pray tell me is this the best you can do?

Nay!! You underestimate me.

3. Scene 3 – Time T0 + 5 years.

You want cold drink you get coke, you want to celebrate you go with coke again, but what about excitement. The kind of excitement that makes your tummy jingles all the way.


It is Brrrrrrr – ting tong .......ting...... ting....... ting........

Now considering that "Brrrrrrrrr" is in a time when
  • India won the world cup of cricket and
  • IPL quickly followed the world Cup 
  • Imran Khan seems to be far more "cuter" than mama Aamir (going by female perception)
I will not hazard a guess on the longevity of this campaign !! 

I got to hand it to the Coke. Every year or rather ever season they create a new jingle, a new concept to sell the same old water, color, and sugar and soda combination.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Need for Speed_Hamara Bajaj

I was returning after hustling the defense government at the Army workshop. This place is near Trinity church, sprawling acres of land dotted with the typical manicured lawns and age old buildings. The roads from Trinity Church, towards old airport road are winding and mostly empty during 11 or so in the afternoon, so I speed-ed up.

Strategically located, under some shady tress, were Banglorean cops with a speed gun concealed, under a SUV’s hood. I was doing good speed, and so one white hat policeman made way to the center of the road and motioned me towards the side end.

Damm…..another  100 this time, that too after bloody pleading as though he was doing a favor for me. I had already been ripped once in Doddenakundi.

What’s the use of a big bike if I can’t speed up?

I reduced the throttle wearily, as I made my way to the side. 

Just as slowed down, I could catch a glimpse of the smug expression on his face.

I felt repulsed.

I revved up suddenly and squeezed through the side gap and made way past him easily.

The shrill whistle of the police red light echoed behind me, however there was no movement of the vehicle towards me. I speeded up more; the old airport road I know well, and soon I could find one gully deserted enough for me to park.

I got down the bike, unstrapped my helmet and sat near the side walk.

What had I just done? Escaped a policeman?????

I am darn sure they had a number of my bike on their records; the speed gun takes pictures also. They could trace me easily. But then I asked myself, will they?

Will they trace someone because he was speeding and did not stop to pay chai paani to them?

I could not reach the main office road through side roads, I had to come to the main road once and now I think the policeman would have circulated my number to all others in the beat stating that there is a high chance for cash making.

Do I plaster mud on my number plate; bloody sounds so bollywood movie types, and so obvious a display of foul play.

Devil …….please light the flame of wit.

Devil is good; particularly when devil meets the full time resident saint.

Aha….got it. I navigated a bit through the internal roads and shops and found one stationary shop; I got some black paint and a brush.

Then, parking it near the tree away from sight of people, (or so I thought).I began art work. One deft swing of my fingers and 3 became an 8.

I got a coke and some puffs, as lunch as I waited for the paint to dry.

All preparations done, I removed my shirt too. I had a flimsy translucent t-shirt underneath, for I had run out of undergarments.(Its Friday ……..ignoramus!).

Do I throw away the articles of suspect that is the brush and the paint? Being caught on the murder scene .........if at all being caught is a good idea............. then definitely the murder weapon should not be in your hand.

Why so serious ..............said the devil?

I packed the brush and paint as well.

I came to the main road again, and zoomed forward. This time I was slow. I reached the outer ring road without any trouble. From here I went through a gully route to my office and reached without any obstruction.

Now, I wait for the summons from the court .......... if any….

What do you say?

Friday, April 1, 2011


Poo vanguga “, rang the cheerful cry of dark skinned women sitting cross legged at the sidewalk. Gleaming nose pins and electric colored saris, stood out in stark contrast to their yellow tinged black faces. Shiny black hair adorned with white flowers added a degree of credibility to their work.

A plain sari with hair pulled back severely and imprisoned into a ball stood out conspicuously. The brows however curved splendidly, defiantly, mocking the black ball of tresses.

A deft pick of a bud, a quick twist of fingers and the thin thread was fastened to the delicate stem only to be linked to another.

“Pick………… twist……. thread ……..snaps…….” was steady , but not monotonous, rather strangely intense.

Stuck by the concentration on her work, I watched her fascinated and also slightly unnerved.

“ Rendu mozham,”

“ Erwad ”, said she , holding out the soft bundle.

“ Padhinanje”  I countered.

She did not argue, retort or even acknowledge my suggestion but merely held out her palm. Drawing in the amount she asked I placed in her outstretched palm, only to be returned back change, matching my suggestion.

Puzzling indeed!!

The little change was not really of consequence, it was a part of our behavior to knock of a few bucks on anything we buy.

Hoo, rang the shrill whistle.

Clutching the soft bundle I ran to the moving train, to grab a square inch of place to stand.

“Pick………… twist……. thread ……..snaps…….”

Coming back, I saw the woman, relentlessly stringing buds one after the other.

“Pick………… twist……. thread ……..snaps…….” now vigorously and urgently.

Within a couple of minutes she straightened and heaving the basket of soft bundles over her head she began walking briskly, almost running.

Following her I ended in a dark and claustrophobic lane where I promptly lost sight of her. Feeling my way around the walls I began to make way towards a light source at one end.

I realized I had reached the road back of my college. Feeling very thirsty, I went to a pan shop for a cold drink.

The drink however froze in my mouth. From a ramshackle house neatly tucked away from the main road, I saw that woman emerging, with others.

She was dressed in a figure hugging jeans and t-shirt; hair oiled, and blowing around ceaselessly in the wind, adorned neatly with a strand of flowers. Giggling, she passed around soft bundles to other women in shimmering outfits.

They began walking down the street nodding at the various people passing.

The vendor saw my gaze with a knowing smile “You walked in at the right time “

Puzzled again!

It seemed that the women were actually enjoying their work, the exercise felt too natural to be scripted and planned.

She caught my gaze, and returned a knowing smile. I stood there, with the kind of feeling in my tummy that you get when you are coming down a ride in a giant wheel.

Striding across the road, she was stopped by a black giant of a man with gleaming gold chains, in a spotless white mundu and shirt. A brief conversation later she bundled into a van with an anticipatory smile playing on her face.

The van turned and raced opposite me, in the fleeting moment I caught the woman’s eye, and she gave me one huge wink.

With cool feeling of the drink in my mouth, I walked across the road. The basket of buds stood alone besides the ramshackle door, with the bundles lying proudly, invitingly, waiting to be caressed by the touch of life.