an appendix to the good, the bad and the ugly

well, after going to gym five days in the week prior to the blog titled 'the good, the bad and the ugly', and after having a surprisingly decent monday, i went to the gym on monday evening.....and after that didnt go to gym OR office rest of the week as i got viral fever, cough and cold. so much for the bragging and achievement....

How marathis are teaching the rest of the indians to hate

the good, the bad and the ugly

well bai god i hope this one doesn't take 2 weeks to write. i must be a very fickle person to not write 5 minutes after i feel like writing. i'll have to warn my wife of possible infidelity (if i get married before the earth is swallowed by the sun).

so, i'm going to delhi this friday. no doubt you are happy for me. many reasons. the first is that delhi is not in bombay. the second is that it puts me 120 million centimetres away from office, and this number is correct, has to be correct coz it matters deeply to me and therefore i applied my kumbhkaran (in size and soporific ability) brain to it. besides that are many reasons like doggies, home food, car, etc.

i have not had a good week in office. pressure has increased manifold though the financial year has just begun. my leave was almost cancelled as a result. i almost quit as a result. the company almost fainted with happiness as a result. ok, last line not true coz i didnt quit. but i don't want to find out how true it can be....will have to toe the line and be a good boy this week

had a good weekend though. hung out only with guys (it can be good for non sexually-differently aligned people also), and did the usual guy things: leching, drinking, hogging, gambling, swearing...but i think we missed the female company, coz we all shopped a lot yday (me the most somehow) and proudly showed to each other our purchases!!!!

had a surprisingly decent monday...the blues were missing. maybe coz i did a little work after 2 weeks, and felt good about it. maybe coz i bitched about the company to many people. god knows. fuck all company. they're having a puja tomorrow morning for something called gudi padwa (for the linguistically challenged anglophiles, the pronounciation rhymes with 'pain in the butt'), and have stated that attendance is mandatory. excuuuuse me, but i'm not one to have personal beliefs like religion imposed on me. i am a man of virtues. a man of principles. a man of morals. a man with spine. i stand up for my beliefs. i also want to go to delhi without giving up my job. so, jai shree om!

but the best news....for the first time, i actually managed to hit the gym 5 days last week!!! taaliyan!!! clap clap. still have the physique of a blade of grass though. to feel better, i will now wear a sleeveless shirt to gym. but to continue feeling better, i will only go at those timings when there are none of the bulldozer-bodied men.

ok chalo, time to go....the bar-bells are ringing! and now i don't feel like writing also, more than 5 minutes have passed...

the good side of private banking

to say that i hate my job is to say that salman khan hates pavement dwellers. and this is not a natural hatred, it was nurtured over the last several months, increasing in intensity. it almost reached a climax where i hated the thought of going to office even when it was chilled work, jut because i would have to see those faces.

then....for a few beautiful hours, a paradigm shift!!! i mean, a reversal like no other. the cause: a company event. and not just any event, a very special event. we've had our share of parties, and offsites (though sponsored by a certain other bank whose name rhymes with kc forgan).
nope, this was a big old, daddy-of-all-events, fashion show!!!!!

and it was by some designer called manish malhotra. not that i've heard of him. another proof that my fashion sense reminds me of a compass pointing south. i mean, only the same weekend as this show, i went for dinner with friends to a place called lemon grass, and dekha ki except at our table, every other guy was wearing a collar. even the stray dog outside!! i think it's a delhiite thing to wear tees....

anyway, i had hoped to dress smart, and for the first time in my career, i landed up in a suit. and saw that everyone else was in their sunday best. perfect. out of place, yet again.
my other reaction when i walked in was that of the horny wolf in those cartoons. my mouth dropped open. so much style....so much skin....so much beauty!! some colleagues were looking stunning, as were most other females. it was almost too much on the eyes. one more hot girl, i think, and my eyes would simply have melted, to look like 2 egg whites oozing from my eyeholes

down to business, i grabbed a drink. received a couple of clients. and even before the drink took effect, started globing away about how the markets would continue to fall this week. what else to talk to a tam/mallu/gult/kannad about, when he's present with his wife (who has flowers in her hair) and daughter (who has oil in hers) and when my mouth oozes profanities like a pimple oozes pus (i hope you like the simile)??

luckily, i managed to get away from business talk before they started asking probing questions that would have revealed the shallowness of my knowledge.
then the fashion show finally started, with a lot of hoopla and fanfare....it was good fun. the models were beautiful (only the female ones)....though not hot. i learnt later that they displayed the bridal collection only coz just the previous day at some major fashion event had witnessed yet another wardrobe malfunction (they're becoming more frequent than traffic jams), preventing us from being witness to the beachwear collection. i'm not sure if i was being joked to. it still hurt.
so there were the models, good looking but not hot. hence my gaze was more drawn to one of our colleagues sitting in a skirt nearby, legs crossed

fashion show ended, so now i don't feel like typing anymore. there was not much noteworthy after that anyway. i saw the models filing out....they looked a lot shorter off the ramp and a lot hotter without the bridal wear (maybe that's y guys are scared of marriage!!). bumped into freddy daruwalla....he was also on the ramp, though i didn't recognize him....chatted with him for a bit though. listened in quiet seething rage as he talked oh-so-casually about a model's roaring sex life.
had dinner, couple drinks with a colleague, and finally left around 10:30

achcha, this post has already taken me over 2 weeks to write...i don't want to waste more time on it...in epilogue, i've seen manish malhotra's name pop up a lot more in the news since the show. could be that he's more famous. could be that i'm paying more attention to the world of fashion. could be that i'm gay and attracted to him. kidding. maybe.

till the next blog then!!

baal dhamaal

guys, i need to complain. please dont laugh. this is an issue which, though mild to start with, has now blown to such proportions that it's very close to my heart. i have almost no sense of humor left about this grave issue. it's an issue which i wouldnt wish on my worst enemy (i.e the one who used to steal my tiffin....u reading this, u bugger?)

i don't how know many of you have had the unparalleled privilege of meeting, or at least seeing me. basically, one of the first things one notices upon viewing my radiant masculine beauty, is that i look much younger than i am. want to know y that is? it's coz i dont have hair. i dont mean on my head (i have enough there, though it's receding faster than symonds' human traits). i mean on my face. and this is the crucial part. the rest of it doenst matter. its what you get at face value.

i don't how know many of you have had the unparalleled privilege of meeting me (i copy-pasted this line from above, please pay attention). many of my close acquaintances know that i'm paranoid about aging. at the ripe age of 23. so when people used to say you look like you're in school/college, i used to be tremendously pleased. who doesnt want to fight age? its only now, in the last few months, that i'm seeing the terrible disadvantages. listed below are some, in ascending order of importance:

1. it's hard to be taken seriously at work. any client i go to meet, will usually ask me what my qualifications are, or will tell me he's been in the markets since before i was born. similarly, within office my nicknames vary from 'little boy' to 'bachcha' to 'baby-face', etc. accusations fly about my company indulging in child labor.
2. outings. luckily movie theatres have stopped checking me (maybe i atleast look older than 18), but certain places where i have had the opportunity to drink, i have had to prove my age. this by the way, includes an international flight where i asked for a beer. that was embarassing. but this is still ok, compared to.....
3. girls!!!! as i said in the previous blog, there are a couple in the gym that i have mad crushes on. not to mention some in office that are in my crosshairs. but the second any of these people see me, they turn away and start talking to guys who look their age (and in the case of gym girls, these guys also look like a puny guy's worst nightmare). in fact, frequently i get the feeling the gym girls are thinking 'what is this kid doing in a gym in the middle of a corporate park?' i'm not to be blamed therefore for my lack of success with girls. its a conspiracy against me from above!!!! it's also His fault i listen to freaky music which has the same effect on girls as all-out does on mosquitoes or diet does on inzy.

so people, if you have any tips on how to grow facial hair without the use of fertilizers or transplanting hair from unsocial body parts, please leave necessary comments. for now, i will go and listen to 'sonata of pain' by 'brain soup'. this one's for you, ladies

chronicles of a wannabe gymmer

what is it about guys and gyms? this esoteric relationship that witnesses more love and hate twists than a saas-bahu serial courtesy e. kapoor?

i recently joined a gym. by recently i mean about 3 months ago. now typically, if you've seen me, i'm not quite the hulk hogan. but despite my slightly below average weight, i do like to describe myself as being somewhat athletic. while i may not have the right bulges, i do have the right lines and cuts which indicate potential for bulges. and this potential is exactly what i hoped to exploit upon signing up

right....so coming to this curious matter of guys and gyms. i see a lot of things when i go to the gym. not that i go very often. that's problem one. if i go two days in succession, i feel as if i've won the nobel prize or something. kudos to aman!! lets sit back and relax a day. or two. or three. who even thinks about the undoing of 2 days of backbreaking toil? not when there's xbox to be played, beer to be drunk, people to be met. that's all more important than keeping fit.

keeping fit. that's number two. i joined initially just to stay fit. thought i'd do cardios, keep my paunch reined in, develop some stamina. now here's the weird thing. there's something about a gym that makes you feel like you are capable of being a greek god. after a few days of cardio, i felt good about myself. i even went to the bathroom after one or two workouts to check myself out in the mirror. things were on track. yes!!! and then....you see the others. those hardcore gymmers, who come into the gym for about 2 hours a day, and do only weights. and you...you're trying so hard to put them down, saying they have no life and spend all their time sweating with other guys. that they have no brains, only brawn. sighhh...you fail to convince yourself. what can one do when next to him is a guy (call him X) lifting weights 4 times as heavy as this guy, whose biceps are twice as thick as one's body, and who looks like slapping bison dead with his right hand while skinning crocodiles with his left is his pastime hobby?

and yet, at the other end of the spectrum, you have what i will call the type 2 male. so round he tries to call himself aerodynamic. so hairy he says his skin is dark. and so sweaty, you have to wait after he's used a machine for it to dry. and he comes to the gym, this type two, wearing tight shorts (the sight of which makes my eyes bleed when he squats) and tiny tees that crawl up 8 inches when he stretches, revealing a forest of hair thick enough to camp in (ugh...what a thought!!!). and of course, he's bitten by the greek god syndrome, working out like it's his duty to reveal the pleasures of his self to the world.

so what is it that draws me to the gym? a typical person X, i'm always afraid, will start laughing when he sees the relatively puny weights i struggle along with. the average type 2 male is a burden on the eyes, his sweat is rancid enough to kill dead meat all over again, and his sweat (god have mercy) could pass for the black sea. so y do i go??

one answer could be females. but there's a flaw in this reasoning. the only females who come to a gym are the ones who need the gym. that is to say, those who look like beached walruses, but are in fact much bigger but lesser likely to breed. in the off chance that some slim attractive woman does turn up, hot figure and all, she drones like a bee drawn to the hive that is Mr X, he whose shadow could probably knock me over. so much for brain triumphing over brawn.

so here we are. wrong girls, huge guys, right girls going to huge guys, and huge guys. yet i still go, unfailingly, unwaveringly, unfalteringly, consistently, 2-3 days of our 7 day weeks. after dragging myself home tired from office. despite no visible effect on my physique. it really is a puzzle. go figure.....

Seeds of Hate

bombay
the city of dreams. i associate this city with the song 'laree choote' from the movie 'ek chaalis ki last local'. i heard it when i was about to leave delhi for bombay in may. it seemed to me to be full of sadness and hope. i could imagine bobby deol sitting at the door of a moving local, staring wistfully out at parallel tracks awash with orange glow from overhead streetlights. of course, the actual video was shitty, a group of people dancing like ducks running from a hunter. but this is my mind, my blog, my connotation. deal with it. anyway, as i was saying, the city of dreams.

but in the last month, so many people have had their dreams broken. many more have fled the city, in a rare instance of mass exodus. all these poor people have one thing in common. they're north indians. more specifically, up-ites and biharis. castigated and condemned for coming to the city of opportunities and stealing away jobs from the 'sons of the soil', they can't find support from any quarter coz the perpetrators have the people, the police and the government eating out of their hands.

i was in office one fine day, when i got a text from my mausi in hyderabad, hoping i was ok. i wasn't really, since i was in office against my will. but these are small matters. when i asked her why she sent this message, that's when i heard about the tension in dadar, and i was like 'hoo boy, here we go again!!' tension in dadar occurs more regularly than the weatherman's forecasts come true. anyway, i'm quite immune to them. i've walked at 11pm along streets so deserted with tension, one could easily mistake it for a curfew. the only inconvenience being that cabs become a precious commodity. those pricks have ruined my life here, making me beg to them.
but what of those who aren't immune? the economically weaker? the downtrodden? who's to save them from the hound-like packs of goons wandering the streets with bats and clubs in their hands, out for a kill? a kill at the bidding of a deluded son of a power hungry tyrant....

but there's a solution. north indian, you want to be safe from these people? come, stand with me. raise you voice. all together now. say it loud. 1-2-3.
"JAI MAHARASHTRA!"

come on guys....we have enough problems in india without regional politics slowing us enough to send us back into the dark ages. forget the states, we're Indians!