Angry feedback of a bored mind

Blogging is an art. Too bad most people who do it can't get beyond doodling.
For example, most blogs, or almost all, are titled in this style:
'X Y of a Z mind'
For example, (Just to be clear, all examples in this post are true. I haven't made anything up.)
1. 'Random musings of a wandering mind'
2. 'Simple thoughts of a complex mind'
3. 'Sleazy thoughts of a perverted mind' (Ok, that i did make up)

And as if the title is not repulsive enough, there's a description below it:

'All about I, me, myself' (Thank god for the blog! How else would the world get hold of all this priceless knowledge?)

'The myriad thoughts that run through my mind shared with you' (Now that is an interesting read. Readers are crazy about this kinda thing)

And the most common: 'About life, the universe and everything' (Sigh. Poor Douglas Adams. He should never have come back from his year spent dead.)

Let me give you some concrete examples.

A friend of mine wrote a post - offering advice to Manmohan Singh on how to eradicate poverty and fix India's economy. All explained in thirteen crisp points. I think Manny has yet to come across it, for my friend still complains about not having enough money. Anyways, it went somewhat like this:
1. Ban sugarcane farming in north-west Guntur in leap years
2. Make marijuana legal in Ohio (I think this was lifted from his own 'What Obama should do' post)
3. Increase the money supply....and so on

My keen observing eyes didn't fail to notice that he had also slipped in a point saying 'Eradicate poverty & fix economy' in the middle.

This torture, however, is still avoidable. But not the kind directed personally at you.
My friend Nithya Anantharamakrishnan (name changed from Nithya Ananthakrishnan to Nithya Anantharamakrishnan to protect identity) writes a blog too. Unfortunately, regularly.
She once insisted that I read her latest post online and give feedback immediately.
It began, "Is life nothing but a motionless journey towards eternity amidst the noise?". I felt cramps in my right calf. It went on.. "In the evening, when I asked my husband if he wanted Sushi or curd rice for dinner (yes, ABCD), he said 'Either'. Was I to believe that this was a moment of truth where reality dissolved and the walls of the house took me in their arms as if to comfort me? An unconditional desire to let go..."
Here, I suddenly felt an unconditional desire to let go and headed for the loo. I told Nithya Anantharamakrishnan (name changed) that I had to go, and signed out. It turned out to be a false alarm and I didn't have to let go, but Nithya anantharamakrishnan (name changed) will never find out.

I'm not asking much of these people, or of you.
Of these doodlers, I just ask that they STOP. Like now.
Of you, I just ask that you only read high quality award-winning blogs. This on, for instance:
http://secret-apple-sauce.blogspot.com/
Ciao.

Happiness!!!!

Happiness. Aaah!. That one elusive feeling….., I must say, and I’m sure many of you feel this too, is what’s wrong with this world. Happiness shouldn’t be allowed in public places, where all of us, us normal miserable people, can see it. Whenever someone happy is found shoving their unsolicited smile in normal people’s faces, they should be caught, and sent to some far off island where noone can see them again.

I mean, we’re like, going about mindin’ our business, consistent frowns on our faces, when these creatures pop out of nowhere, all sunshine and sparkling white (visible) teeth, and push us further down into the rut we’re already so firmly rooted in. Someone’s loving their work, doing cool things, traveling n shit, while others are going coo and muaah about their loved one.

If I were president, I would make a great many much-needed changes, required by society, and warranted by sound public policy. I would kill all those happier than me. I much prefer to be surrounded by people less fortunate, more miserable, less happy than me. That makes me feel better. In fact, happy people shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near unhappy people.

I mean, think about it. I’m not being selfish here. At all. All I’m saying is its just against natural law to be lucky, happy etc. These people are anomalies that should be weeded out. Save these anomalies, the world is just a sorry place we’re stuck in till… you know, till the time when……. Err…… sorry. There’s no till really. The world is just a sorry place. Like forever.

Our life is nothing but a painfully long and boring journey that starts with Us crying. And then its just a slow, downward slide towards death. Period.

I rest my case, and I think I’ll go to sleep now. Have to live through yet another miserable day tomorrow.

Wrong start

“No, really. This is the first good thing that’s happened to me in years.” Said Ganesh.

“Are you serious? You are like.. me. You are just another me!” Sameer continued, “So, let me see, you suck at your work, as do I. You have fights with your wife (Mridula – isn’t that the name?) everyday, as do I. You get pushed around in buses and ignored at malls, get snubbed by waiters in restaurants, always get caught when jumping lights and generally suffer all the time. As do I! It sucks to be a loser, but it’s comforting to know there’s someone like you.”

“Yeah. And to be honest, I have never got a compliment for how I’m dressed. Today’s a first. In fact..err.. the @$$ of a boss I have never tires of pointing out how clumsily dressed I am. I don’t get it.. I spend so much time picking my shirts, and he likes this one! Not just him, I get some ten compliments in a day for the shirt! It doesn’t even fit properly. It’s your shirt for god’s sake. I picked the wrong one in the morning.. it is so similar to mine..”

“Sorry about that, I picked yours first, by mistake. But it seems to have worked for both.. God knows how many compliments I got today – a first for me too! Good thing they made us share rooms at this stupid seminar. “

“You bet. First serendipitous event in my life, I would say.”

“My friend, you’d probably flip at what I’m going to say now, but I have to at least share the idea with you..”

“An idea? Try me.”
-----------------------------------
One year later
-----------------------------------
“It’s been a year, Sameer. You think we should continue with this?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m a superstar. My boss loves me. Sorry, your boss loves me. So do your neighbours! And since the time you’ve started to shop for my clothes, I get compliments for looks almost everyday, waiters and conductors call me ‘sir’, and traffic policeman smile as I jump lights..it’s bizarre.”

“I know! It wasn’t half as tough as we thought it would be, no? I was surprised to see our bosses accept the swap so easily. Guess they were just eager to get rid of us. The other us, I mean.”

“Hey, but you’ll have to give me a bigger list of South Indian dishes. I love the food and I’m much healthier now, but I want more.”

“Thank God for that seminar.. I guess.. we were just born in each other's place.”

“Hmm.. now only if Mridula and Swati would relent…”

A different morning

There was something different about the air that day.. It was unusually cool and it somehow felt very fresh. As Niku walked down the pavement, she felt as if her legs were carrying her by themselves.. she just couldn't feel any effort being put in. Morning wasn't her favourite time of the day, what with the alarm, the unbearable journey to work and the idea of a long day of hard work, but this morning was different. It felt like breeze blowing in her face.. and it wasn't only because she wasn't going to work today.

What lay in store for her? Was he going to say something.. say something special? It couldn't be.. she had known him for quite a while now - he was a nice guy, decent and cheerful - but they were always friends. But then again, she was attractive and single, and so was he.

The red skirt in the display window of 'Bold' caught her eye. She wished she were wearing that skirt right now and the white top her mom had bought her. She checked her watch.. she had no time to stop and shop right now.. maybe later. She thought back to the last conversation they had had, and a few more before that. There wasn't even a hint of romance in them. They'd talked about movies, about travelling and painting. She'd told him how she wished she were doing something more interesting with her life than reading laws, about her secret desire to work in an ad agency. She remembered the way he smiled cheekily that time...

What indeed was so important that he asked her to take the day off and see him in a cafe?! He said he'd change her life today.. that he would show her something today..or did he say someone? He seemed in a hurry to hang up.

She smelt the faint fragrance of fresh flowers as she passed the florist. Somehow the city looked more colourful today. She looked up at the sky, it was clear and blue.. bluer than usual. Actually it was bluer in the place she looked than elsewhere. She looked closely, and noticed that it was getting even bluer there. Strange.. it was dark blue in a spot, and the blue faded outward.. then the dark blue spot started getting bigger. And bigger.. no wait, it seemed bigger because it was getting closer.

Then, she understood. From out of the sky, this thing emerged and protruded out towards her. Sort of a reverse whirlwind in the sky, with the pointy part pointing towards her. Then suddenly, the tip opened. Then it opened wider, and even wider. Then, a large three eyed monster, made of jelly flew out with outstreched tentacles, picked her up and disappeared inside the thingie. It then closed and disappeared into the sky.

अशीच एक गंमत ...

With apologies to non-marathi readers.

अदिती माझी मोठी बहीण
बहीण कसली मास्तरीण
बालपण माझे केले कठीण
धडे शिकवूनी १

आगाउपणाला नाही सीमा
विरोध केलात तर करेल खीमा
नाहीतर करेल तुमचा मामा
हसत, नकळत २

केली माझ्यावर दादागिरी
पडली पटी-पटीने भारी
आवाज मोठा आमच्या घरी
केवळ तिचा ३

Tough-love म्हणे म्हणतात ह्याला
दूर गेल्यावरच अर्थ कळला
तेच धडे आता येती कामाला
रात्रं- दीन ४

अदिती माझी मोठी बहीण
बहीण नव्हे बेस्ट बहीण
पुरे आता खोटं लिहिणं
भिडू म्हणे 5

For the love of Depreciation.

Have been away from the blog for many days for a couple of reasons. One of them is that for a long time now, I haven't found anyone or anything to mock. The world is turning into an uninterestinger place everyday... very few jokers left (thank god for IIM Bangalore).
But today I decided it's time for change. Why be so negative all the time? (We already have communists to fulfill that function) Why not honour someone for a change?
Today, i dedicate this post to the glorious profession of accounting. This is in honour of the Chartered Accountants in India.

CAs have made a great contribution to this country through their work in accounting. Ketan Parekh (who i think made crores on the stock exchange), Shekhar Kapur (makes movies), etc. <--- (this last word means that I know many such examples but choose not to share them with you). CAs also have great linguistic skills. The other day, I asked this CA colleague where he lives. He said he lives in Thane, which is considered to be in Mumbai, unless otherwise specified (section 34 of the Bombay Rent Control Act, 323 BC read with Mumbai jurisdiction rules as specified by the Registrar from time to time). I have never heard anyone speak ancient Babylonian so fast before! This holds true for all CAs. I was once umpiring for a cricket match, and had to make a narrow boundary call. The CA fielder explained that the ball fell in the area appurtenant to the rope thereto and such area, inter alia, is deemed to include the area not included (as part of custom) in the ordinary course of business in the play area for a reasonable period of time. His team won the match convincingly. Mind you, CAs are also very interesting as people. I was talking to 3 CA friends just the other day. I casually enquired about their respective passions in life. Pat came back three replies, and the variety which they encompassed was mind-boggling. Such varied interests in life in such a small group! One said section 54EC, Two said accounting standard 18 - Related Party Disclosures (I knew someone would say party!) and Three said Reduction of capital under section 100. WOW! I can go on and on in praise of this great profession, but I have to stop somewhere. Because, after I finish writing, I need to go read that newest exciting clarification published by the institute on treatment of deferred taxes in case of impairment of assets in incomplete period financial statements. This statement of mine shall not be deemed to mean, unless otherwise specified, that I do not have interests which are significantly different from, within the meaning of the General Clauses Act of 1822, those specified in the third Schedule of the Public Interest (Meaning and Interpretation) Rules, 1943. Did I mention my former profession, by the way?

The Case of the Panting Panda-man

It was the kind of morning Mumbaikars from world over will fondly remember from their childhood days. You, standing on a railway platform with roughly 63 X 10^38 other people. Bodies that feel like sponge dipped in oil, and smell like..well, sponge dipped in other unpleasant substances pressing against yours from all directions, including up. Temperature that's only a few degrees above the sun's.

While I was waiting to receive the great DDD, I recalled that I'd never seen a private detective before, and i'm pretty sure noone ever has. Because the only known detectives are characters in novels, and the others have done a pretty good job of protecting their privacy.

"Shh.. password?" said this balding coolie with a goofy smile who owned the body pressing against me from the west.
"Luggage nahi hai" I replied.
"Damn. Wrong password again. Where the hell is this chronicler guy !!?"
My heart stopped beating. "Hey. You are Detective Deboo Dubey!!? I'm Dr. T. My function is to follow you everywhere and act dumb enough to make you look smart."
"Yes, yes! thank god.. i was tired of this sneaking up to people and asking for the password."
"What password?"
"The pass.. damn! I forgot to tell you about the password on the phone. I always use it in covert operations. Anyways, people here are really rude. Some even gave me alms! I'm offended. In Darbhanga, they treat you like any honest, upright man should be treated. They beat you up and kidnap your kid and YOU get to give away money."

I was finally face to face with Detective Deboo Dubey from Darbhanga! What smart a man he must be. You'd expect a detective to have an imposing personality, a beaked nose, wearing a hat or beret or something. But Deboo managed to disguise himself as a withering, balding dirty 40-year old coolie. Though why he was disguised I wasn't sure. When i asked him about it, he murmured something about the art of dejection (I think he meant deduction). But i'm pretty sure that was another ploy of his to mislead his dangerous foes. When he finally took off his makeup, I saw what he really looked like.. a withering, balding 40-year old coolie.

Back home, when I was thinking hard about what i can write in his praise, he sprung out of the bathroom after his shower and rushed towards me.
"Rise, my dear friend. It's time we start work on our first case. Can you lend me a 100? Thanks. So, i was saying.. our first case is called 'The case of the murder'."
"Deboo, can't we have a more interesting name? What is the case about?"
"Not very sure.. I think the lady mentioned robbery on the phone, but i may have misheard. But she did mention she'll pay us some fee. Pay me some fee, I meant. You'll bloody earn royalty on the chronicles anyways. "
"Fine, whatever. But I want to give it a better name. I'm calling it 'The case of the Panting Panda-man'."
"Good man, there's no time for small talk. Let's rush out now."
"Aren't you putting on clothes?"

And so we were out of the apartment in 2 minutes, on our first case.
"Wait." said Deboo, on the pavement outside. We're forgetting something very important.
I waited with bated breath for whatever he was about to say. My first brush with genius!

"I think i left the latch key inside the apartment. Damn."

(to be continued)