Waste of good airtime

Of all the people to invite on this already stupid show, Karan had to go and invite the lady whose actions have revived the kleenex business in India and beyond. Karan could not sink lower than this (hmmmm maybe he can, by inviting Himesh........ egad!!!!). Coming back, we had her royal highness, the queen of soaps, enlightening us about what her serials symbolize and how relevant they are to modern India and of course the usual bitching that is now so passe'. Poor Kjo seems to be getting desperate as he brings in weird guests like Rakhi Sawant, who, sorry to say, lacks any class whatsoever.

Moving on, the other show I kinda dislike is Biggest Loser jeetega. I really appreciate the courage of the 16 incredibly obese people who show off their flab on primetime television. But the show focuses more on the disgust factor than on the effort put in by the contestants. The producers try to cash in on situations like a guy getting hospitalized and someone having an affair with someone else. I mean this is not supposed to be Bigg Boss goddammit. And Sunil Shetty is not helping the TRPs either with his monotonous voice and a face that is so expressionless, he would make a samurai proud. They have killed the show by having eliminations. I mean every eliminated contestant is a loser coz they would be so depressed after they get home, they would reach out for those pastries and cakes and put on 50 pounds more.

Meanwhile poor farmer Kanduswami near Tirunelvelli in Tamil Nadu, who is watching the show on his brand new colour TV gifted by the CM is wondering how the hell does one guy weigh as much as his entire family put together including Laxmi the cow...... Not for long though. The power goes out and the water supply stops. But who cares about the basic needs of life when you have television right?

P.S. Suppose a mysterious death takes place on the set of Biggest Loser. What whould you call the case? "The case of the clogged artery"? "The strange case of the whirlwind workout"? "The case of the stressed-out weighing machine?" .......... Just wondering.

Kerala Part 2

After having spent 4 days in Kerala, I have come to the following conclusions:



1. Keralites love their booze.

2. They seem to be awful drivers.

3. Vegetarian fare comes at a premium.



I took to roaming the streets every evening and one thing that struck me was the amount of men standing in queue outside the half a dozen liquor shops in the area. Man some of those lines were longer than the ones you have to stand in to get your exam hall tickets (fellow Bhavanites know what I'm talking about). No lines even at the ration shops. Booze seems to be way too popular there. If this continues, all the other shops will start converting themselves into booze joints as well.

Ernakulam at 10 pm is like Mumbai at 3 am. The roads are empty and the tendency to speed is pretty strong. The drivers seem to forget that they should restrain themselves during the day, but.......... Even truck drivers seem to think they deserve to be rubbing shoulders with Lewis Hamilton and the rest of the F-1 lot. We went for a backwater tour, and we had to get to the place by car. The driver looked rather like Sreesanth. This dude never seemed to come below 4th gear. He was easily doin 100- 120 km, all the time talking on his cell, driving with one hand. A car overtook him once and he told us the guy didn't know how to drive, and he proceeded to demonstrate how exactly one should overtake a car. I was starting to think my minutes were numbered, when we finally came to a halt. That's one dude I wouldnt want to live within 200 miles of.

Well the thing with Keralites is that they do not like eating out. That means a huge dearth of eateries. And the ones which serve vegetarian food are awful. Awful to someone from Mumbai that is. They serve more of fast food than meals. However I did come across this decent place called "Menaka" in Ernakulam. Good paratha and veg curry and even better choley batture. The taste seemed oddly familiar and I asked the owner where he was from and he said, "hum bambai se aaye hain sahib". Ah my saviour. May his eatery prosper and may Ernakulam succumb to his heavenly Choley batture.

PS. I didn't see any Mallu babes yaar. Fathers don't allow them to go out I guess.........(sigh)

PPS. This is one Mallu you girls out there can't resist ( some guys too. Him for example and him)

PPPS. Sorry Deeps, Kushal and Debu.

Kerala Part 1

The night train from Chennai to Ernakulam Town was comfortable enough. The tickets were confirmed thanks to my uncle, who is a cardiologist for Central Railways (not a man to be trifled with). I attempted to sleep, but my efforts were thwarted by a gentleman in the adjoining berth, whose snores closely resembled the sounds made by a Boeing during take-off. Thankfully he got off around 2, cursing the world for not waking him up, as he had missed his station. God he deserved it……

I managed to sleep till around 5.30 when I heard voices below. A ticket checker had arrived and he was a typical Mallu bloke- huge girth, dark curly hair and a mustache to rival Veerappan’s. My Dad was sleeping on the wrong berth, and mistaking him for someone else, the Mallu said something like,“ alaarrererlalartlalrtlartlatl Palakkad arrrrallataladar” which roughly meant,” You were supposed to get off at Palakkad, what the hell are you still doing here?” Having clarified the situation, my Dad and I carefully avoided looking at each other until he went away.

In the early morning light, Kerala looks breathtakingly beautiful. Water bodies abound and the scenery is stunning. But one thing I resent is the overuse of the term ‘God’s own country.’ You see it everywhere. On roadsides, on rickshaws, schoolbags, buses......... you get the point. But I am not so petty as to let that get in my way. The God’s own train arrived and we descended on to God’s own platform to be greeted by the man running God’s own tea-shop and were just in time to drink a steaming cup of God’s own coffee.

The Meeting At Noon

The meeting was at noon. I was forced to take some time off from my very busy schedule and meet him. I never wanted to. But sometimes you just bow down to destiny. I had had a gut feeling that this day would come soon. I approached his desk and saw that he was busy. There were many like me, waiting their turn. So I just took a seat in the corner of the office and allowed my mind to wander.

The symptoms had begun to appear way back. Sleepless nights, body-ache, they were just a few. The months of revelry had taken their toll it seemed. I had met him once previously. He was dull and listless, full of facts and advice. I vowed to avoid him but found myself at his desk again and again. He was the best they told me. I didn’t want to believe them, but then again, mine was hardly an unbiased view.

I looked up to see that it was my turn. Every nerve in my body told me that bad news was going to follow this meeting. But fate led me on. He was not alone. A distinguished looking lady was seated beside him. As I took my seat, I saw the degrees that adorned his walls. Having a Dr. affixed before your name is not an easy task. He was a specialist in something, had completed a course in something else……. the list went on. He looked me in the eye and told me, “The results of your tests are out”. I didn’t need the look on his face to know that things were not well with me. He and the lady started asking me questions. Simple ones at first, about what I did and so on. Then they started prying and probing. Asked me things I was very uncomfortable with. I broke into a nervous sweat as I realized what I was saying didn’t make the slightest sense to them. I knew I was in a bad way. There were inconsistencies in every reply I gave.

He stopped and looked at my uncomprehending face. He looked at the clock on the wall and then turned his face towards me. He had a sad look on his face. I knew my time and luck had run out. It was time for me to depart. He spoke the words that announced my doom. I knew nothing about the Principles of Communication. The four months of partying and then Journal Submissions had left me with no time to study. It didn’t help that I had attended only two lectures of his in the entire semester. A K.T. in vivas was inevitable. Study leave, here I come…….

Just another meaningless rant

I write now on the eve of our 60th year of independence. Its been a roller-coaster ride I feel, with our country gaining so much on certain fronts and losing out on so many others. From becoming an agriculture oriented economy to a service oriented one, from being the best at hockey to being mediocre at it, we have done it all.

Like the common man cares what is happening on the economic front. He works hard to take home his pathetic salary and listen to his wife bitch about the neighbours. He wants to see his kid happy and have a secure future.

Like the bombers are really humans. A passenger travelling on a local train does not harbour bad thoughts about Pakistan or Muslims. He just wants to get home and eat his dinner. He couldnt care less about Kashmir or Osama or whoever. He wants to earn as much as he can before his retirement and then buy a farmhouse in Alibaug where he can sit on an easy-chair and read the morning paper all hours of the day without having to care about the security of anyone in the family except his wife.

Like India is ever going to be good at sports other than cricket (not too good at that either these days). At the rate importance is being given to other sports, its a wonder we still continue to play them. Many of our athletes have disgraced us after failing doping tests. Neelam Singh came last in the discuss throw in a competition inspite of taking steroids. That is how bad we are.

Like the OBCs in our country will stop using quotas after they become affluent (many of them are much better off than I could hope to be). A person from a "lower caste" gets so much from the government just because his great great grandfather or someone happened to be a sweeper or a cobbler or whatever. Inspite of having the necessary brains and talent, ordinary people are treated like shit in this country they call home. They would be better off abroad. And then people accuse them of being traitors to their country. I would rather be called a traitor than put up with such crap. Why not go abroad and get the recognition you deserve?

Like anything about the beurocracy is going to change because of a petition being circulated by The Times of India. Nothing is going to change on that front in the near future. Mumbai will continue to suffer inspite of giving so much to the nation.

Like bunking is ever going to be legalised.

Like the college canteen will ever stop serving the stupid frankie that causes gas.

Like my Mom will ever let me grow my hair to my shoulders.

Like people are still reading this.