I've never written a movie or book review in my life. And I don't think I will anytime soon, either. Right now, I'm going to talk about 'Khuda Kay Liye', a movie I've finished watching not more than five minutes ago. A movie, that has moved me in ways no other movie has, in a long long time. This is by no means a review; this is an experience.
Most people I know haven't seen Khuda Kay Liye, rejecting it simply because it is a product from Pakistan. The reasons range from bizarre ones like "There are so many Indian movies I have to still watch...Pakistani ones can wait!" to "You think Pakistanis can make good movies?". Well, someone even said that Muslims or anything remotely related to them depresses him. See how xenophobic we are on a day-to-day basis, without even realising it?
The movie addresses many issues, like how fundamental Muslims are completely at loggerheads with the progressive, liberal Muslims. Furthermore, it even probes into how all Muslims, even the unsuspecting, innocent ones, are looked upon as terrorists especially post 9/11. The film aims to educate and open the common Muslim woman's eyes and makes her aware about her rights and in places, even explains what the Koran actually means for women. There is such a complex, warped web of issues surrounding the community, that it is all very overwhelming to take in all at once. But that is exactly what this movie aims to do. Provoke the viewer into thinking for himself and not to subject himself to blindly accepting what the religious heads have to say, as well as to remind him that he has no right to paint the entire community black because of terrible experiences with certain members. Because simply put, a handful of bad eggs don't make up the entire basket.
All through the time I was watching the movie, I kept feeling sorry for the one of the lead characters and the torturous treatment doled out to him, because of his religion. And all I kept yelling in my head was, that he's NOT at fault. LET HIM GO already! For me, he was an innocent human who was framed through no fault of his. Shouldn't we be treating all our Muslim brothers from all over the world as humans first, Muslims later?
True, most terrorists these days turn out to be Muslims. But why do we resultantly look at every Muslim suspiciously? We know of Hindu, Sikh or Christian criminals. But do we look at everybody with scrutiny? Can we deny that the thought - 'Oh, he's a Muslim' doesn't cross our mind for a flitting second, the minute we're introduced to one? Why does this happen? And how did anybody let this reach this stage?
One thing everyone must remember, is that in every community, we will find all types of people - the liberal, the fanatic, the fundamentalist, the atheist, the agnostic - it takes all kinds to make up a community. But no one has the right to ill-treat someone on the basis of a community, much less ill-treat someone because they belong to one.
And lastly, if we must hate somebody, can we at least do it in peace, without bloodshed?
P.S. All views in this post are entirely mine. If you don't agree with them, too bad. Just read and let go , ok?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Children: A reality check on why I don't want any...
Readers who've been reading all the frustration I've been churning out over the years, know my contempt for children of all shapes, sizes and ages. For the uninitiated, I think children should be locked in the bathroom the minute they're born and released after they turn eight years old or something.
Which brings me to the topic of discussion. Why don't I see any well-behaved, polite children anywhere around me these days? And why does everyone around me think that these excruciatingly bratty kids are awfully cute, while I think they're just plain awful? In retrospect, I sometimes wonder if it's really a child's fault for turning out the way it does, or its parents'.
Everywhere I go, I can't walk around any place in peace without stubbing my toe on a brat. And I'm not referring to just any simple, uncomplicated brat. But the sort of brat whose neck you want to wring with your bare hands and whose remains you want to eat for breakfast. You encounter such species in malls, restaurants, theatres, mobile stores, beauty parlours, trains and any other conceivable place. These kids believe that their entire world is their playground, so they won't waste a minute playing catch-and-cook or hide-and-seek, in which case they simply lock themselves up in an unsupervised changing rooms and refuse to come out, despite the long line of customers that gradually starts building up outside.
I really don't understand where the parents of these kids come from. Wouldn't a normal, self-respecting human being feel at least an iota of shame when their kids are given annoyed glances, disgruntled looks or in some cases, told to shut up? Turns out, not really. Mamma dearest turns all protective about her offspring and gives the wronged party a dirty look in return. Sometimes, she may even throw in her favourite argument: "Agar bacche nahi masti karenge toh kaun karega?"
No, mummy dearest. I get that you unfortunately, love your child. But I don't get why your child should go ahead and spoil everyone's time and experience. I also can't fathom why you think your child is so cute when he's clearly behaving like Satan's spawn. If you have any argument in your favour, I'd like to hear it. But don't be surprised if I throw my shoe at you in the middle of the conversation. Goodness knows you have nothing to say in your defense.
These are the exact same parents who will happily continue shopping in malls, when their children are on some other floor playing havoc with the toys. These are the same parents who encourage their children to sit on sofas and beds with their shoes on, in expensive furniture shops. Such parents don't bother stopping their children from doing anything, like playing with the gas right upto talking back to whoever's in front of them. Forget trying to stop them; they make merry these disgusting habits thereby encouraging the child to become increasingly difficult day by day.
Don't these parents realise that they're being nothing but bad parents? That they don't need to prove their love to their children by indulging every whim and fancy? What makes them so afraid to show their kids who's the boss? The possibility that their children might hate them? That's a little impossible, considering a six year-old will remember that its mother rebuked it for drawing on the walls, for only about 10 minutes. At the most it will cry, throw a tantrum and not hover around its mother for sometime. Surely the mother can live with that?
Most importantly, don't you realise you're making your child a less likeable, annoying, whimpering, complaining little piece of hate? A someone who is not used to taking no for an answer and hence, not used to tasting bits of failure now and then?
Perhaps I don't have the right to teach you how to bring up your children. But please, keep your beloved offspring away from constantly staring into my plate and reaching out into my food when I'm trying to enjoy a decent meal at a restaurant. Or don't blame me if I give your child a resounding slap the next time.
Or maybe I'll save the slap for you.
Which brings me to the topic of discussion. Why don't I see any well-behaved, polite children anywhere around me these days? And why does everyone around me think that these excruciatingly bratty kids are awfully cute, while I think they're just plain awful? In retrospect, I sometimes wonder if it's really a child's fault for turning out the way it does, or its parents'.
Everywhere I go, I can't walk around any place in peace without stubbing my toe on a brat. And I'm not referring to just any simple, uncomplicated brat. But the sort of brat whose neck you want to wring with your bare hands and whose remains you want to eat for breakfast. You encounter such species in malls, restaurants, theatres, mobile stores, beauty parlours, trains and any other conceivable place. These kids believe that their entire world is their playground, so they won't waste a minute playing catch-and-cook or hide-and-seek, in which case they simply lock themselves up in an unsupervised changing rooms and refuse to come out, despite the long line of customers that gradually starts building up outside.
I really don't understand where the parents of these kids come from. Wouldn't a normal, self-respecting human being feel at least an iota of shame when their kids are given annoyed glances, disgruntled looks or in some cases, told to shut up? Turns out, not really. Mamma dearest turns all protective about her offspring and gives the wronged party a dirty look in return. Sometimes, she may even throw in her favourite argument: "Agar bacche nahi masti karenge toh kaun karega?"
No, mummy dearest. I get that you unfortunately, love your child. But I don't get why your child should go ahead and spoil everyone's time and experience. I also can't fathom why you think your child is so cute when he's clearly behaving like Satan's spawn. If you have any argument in your favour, I'd like to hear it. But don't be surprised if I throw my shoe at you in the middle of the conversation. Goodness knows you have nothing to say in your defense.
These are the exact same parents who will happily continue shopping in malls, when their children are on some other floor playing havoc with the toys. These are the same parents who encourage their children to sit on sofas and beds with their shoes on, in expensive furniture shops. Such parents don't bother stopping their children from doing anything, like playing with the gas right upto talking back to whoever's in front of them. Forget trying to stop them; they make merry these disgusting habits thereby encouraging the child to become increasingly difficult day by day.
Don't these parents realise that they're being nothing but bad parents? That they don't need to prove their love to their children by indulging every whim and fancy? What makes them so afraid to show their kids who's the boss? The possibility that their children might hate them? That's a little impossible, considering a six year-old will remember that its mother rebuked it for drawing on the walls, for only about 10 minutes. At the most it will cry, throw a tantrum and not hover around its mother for sometime. Surely the mother can live with that?
Most importantly, don't you realise you're making your child a less likeable, annoying, whimpering, complaining little piece of hate? A someone who is not used to taking no for an answer and hence, not used to tasting bits of failure now and then?
Perhaps I don't have the right to teach you how to bring up your children. But please, keep your beloved offspring away from constantly staring into my plate and reaching out into my food when I'm trying to enjoy a decent meal at a restaurant. Or don't blame me if I give your child a resounding slap the next time.
Or maybe I'll save the slap for you.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
This is all very well, but I'd specifically asked for the Pulitzer!
Teehee! :D *blush blush*
It's award time again! *drumroll*
My humble benefactress The Gentle Whisperer has been doling out awards again. If it wasn't for her, I would never get to practice the Pulitzer speech I have prepared (in case of emergency). This time, she's given me two awards (she either has no people to award them to, or she's as blind as a bat), both very flattering. *drumroll 2*
The first one is The Lovely Friends Award. It's nice to know that at least someone apart from me thinks I'm lovely.
So I'm gonna pass this award on to some people who really deserve it. Here goes. *drumroll 3*
Sakshi: For patiently checking my blog every so often, in spite of knowing that I don't bother with timely updates. She always leaves the nicest comments behind and is, in short, a dream blog friend!
Sreejith: Again, for commenting on every post without fail, in spite of knowing that I am lazy to return the favour. Completely non-judgmental, feel-good blog visitor. You deserve every bit of this award. :)
Meow: A very dear friend, both on and off the blog world. This award must go to her, because we rediscovered each other ONLY because of the blog. :) Love you loads, my favourite Kitty! *hug*
Monica: Always around to give out feedback on my writing when needed, and so extremely patient even when I simply forget to check the stuff she sends me. Sometimes I'm surprised she even speaks to me. Mon Mon, this award is in anticipation of the forgiveness I will need, when I forget to read what you send me next! :P
Pliss to note: This time, this award will NOT include the following losers:
1) The White Phoenix - I have wasted 65000 awards on this man, in vain. Nor only does he acknowledge the award, he apparently thinks even talking about it is beneath him. I am completely looking through him this time.
2) The Nicest Geek - Over time, I have discovered that The Nicest Geek is not so nice after all. He lurks and lurks and lurks all over my blog and does not deign to comment. He can do without an award too.
3) The Wiseass: Highly opinionated, extremely judgmental blogger, who can even be a troll when she wants to. That's my sister for you. She's a really tiny troll though. So I'm gonna call her a trolley. :P
After all the niceties, it's now time to present the second award. I have no clue what The Gentle Whisperer was thinking when she was giving me this. Perhaps she knew I'd sulk if I wouldn't be included. So ladies and gennemen, this year's 'Blogger with a Purpose' award goes to...
Mooooo!
*insert sounds of fake clapping, cheering and screaming here*
I'm really pleased to know that someone seems to have discovered a purpose for my blog. I still don't know what it is, though. Being vain and devoting a LOT of cyberspace to yourself surely has its benefits.
And I oh-so-generously pass on this award to:
1) Sakshi: Not because there's no one else. But because she's so completely open about her feelings, without wanting to sound politically correct. It's brave how she discusses extremely personal subjects like her relationship and her own thoughts about so many things so openly, without caring about being judged. That's quite impressive and commendable. Way to go, Sakshi! :)
2) Sreejith: Someone who has nothing to do with writing, but still writes anyway. Because he acknowledges the beauty of writing as a medium to convey feelings. On a side note, a very good read and a talented blogger. This one's for you!
3) Meow: Someone who absolutely is a delight to read and whose sole purpose is to keep everyone around her blog entertained, plus be brutally frank. Her blog is one of the few I can't WAIT to be updated. This is her award. :)
4) Ess: Amazing read, very witty, completely entertaining with careful consideration to punctuation. I think the last bit is what especially stole my heart. :)
For all ye hopefuls who couldn't make it to the list, go home and think about your life. Maybe you can make it next year by sheer hard work and earning the award. However, a quicker way would be to buy me doughnuts from M.O.D or gift vouchers from Promod.
Bribes aren't illegal in the virtual world. :P
It's award time again! *drumroll*
My humble benefactress The Gentle Whisperer has been doling out awards again. If it wasn't for her, I would never get to practice the Pulitzer speech I have prepared (in case of emergency). This time, she's given me two awards (she either has no people to award them to, or she's as blind as a bat), both very flattering. *drumroll 2*
The first one is The Lovely Friends Award. It's nice to know that at least someone apart from me thinks I'm lovely.
So I'm gonna pass this award on to some people who really deserve it. Here goes. *drumroll 3*
Sakshi: For patiently checking my blog every so often, in spite of knowing that I don't bother with timely updates. She always leaves the nicest comments behind and is, in short, a dream blog friend!
Sreejith: Again, for commenting on every post without fail, in spite of knowing that I am lazy to return the favour. Completely non-judgmental, feel-good blog visitor. You deserve every bit of this award. :)
Meow: A very dear friend, both on and off the blog world. This award must go to her, because we rediscovered each other ONLY because of the blog. :) Love you loads, my favourite Kitty! *hug*
Monica: Always around to give out feedback on my writing when needed, and so extremely patient even when I simply forget to check the stuff she sends me. Sometimes I'm surprised she even speaks to me. Mon Mon, this award is in anticipation of the forgiveness I will need, when I forget to read what you send me next! :P
Pliss to note: This time, this award will NOT include the following losers:
1) The White Phoenix - I have wasted 65000 awards on this man, in vain. Nor only does he acknowledge the award, he apparently thinks even talking about it is beneath him. I am completely looking through him this time.
2) The Nicest Geek - Over time, I have discovered that The Nicest Geek is not so nice after all. He lurks and lurks and lurks all over my blog and does not deign to comment. He can do without an award too.
3) The Wiseass: Highly opinionated, extremely judgmental blogger, who can even be a troll when she wants to. That's my sister for you. She's a really tiny troll though. So I'm gonna call her a trolley. :P
After all the niceties, it's now time to present the second award. I have no clue what The Gentle Whisperer was thinking when she was giving me this. Perhaps she knew I'd sulk if I wouldn't be included. So ladies and gennemen, this year's 'Blogger with a Purpose' award goes to...
Mooooo!
*insert sounds of fake clapping, cheering and screaming here*
I'm really pleased to know that someone seems to have discovered a purpose for my blog. I still don't know what it is, though. Being vain and devoting a LOT of cyberspace to yourself surely has its benefits.
And I oh-so-generously pass on this award to:
1) Sakshi: Not because there's no one else. But because she's so completely open about her feelings, without wanting to sound politically correct. It's brave how she discusses extremely personal subjects like her relationship and her own thoughts about so many things so openly, without caring about being judged. That's quite impressive and commendable. Way to go, Sakshi! :)
2) Sreejith: Someone who has nothing to do with writing, but still writes anyway. Because he acknowledges the beauty of writing as a medium to convey feelings. On a side note, a very good read and a talented blogger. This one's for you!
3) Meow: Someone who absolutely is a delight to read and whose sole purpose is to keep everyone around her blog entertained, plus be brutally frank. Her blog is one of the few I can't WAIT to be updated. This is her award. :)
4) Ess: Amazing read, very witty, completely entertaining with careful consideration to punctuation. I think the last bit is what especially stole my heart. :)
For all ye hopefuls who couldn't make it to the list, go home and think about your life. Maybe you can make it next year by sheer hard work and earning the award. However, a quicker way would be to buy me doughnuts from M.O.D or gift vouchers from Promod.
Bribes aren't illegal in the virtual world. :P
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Your daddy should be safely locked up at home when you're driving, because...
1) It's the worst idea to let him sit in the seat next to you.
2) He forgets that you're four years past the legal driving age, and that you've been driving for almost two years now.
3) He will painfully point out every signal, every pothole and every pebble on the road, expecting you to slow down.
4) He wants to be a part of your life's major decisions, like whether you're going to use the dipper at the next junction or simply wait for the guy on the bicycle pass by you smugly.
5) He gets hyper when your car stalls.
6) You aren't supposed to lose your temper through the course of the drive. Even if it means bursting a blood vessel somewhere in the inner depths of your brain.
7) It's always your fault if the car next to you comes too close for comfort.
8) He goes all 'AAAAAAAAARGH WATCH OUTTTTTTTT' when all you did was forget to slow down at a speed breaker. He then yells at you for swerving to the left when he screamed.
9) He tells you to keep your foot off the clutch, after every three minutes.
10) When he's not discussing the general well-being of the clutch, he wants to know if you can clearly see all the cars coming at you in the rearview mirror.
11) He behaves like you're driving with your eyes closed or while you're painting your nails.
12) He clearly becomes the reason you have no fingernails left.
13) He has a problem with the music you play.
14) He keeps his hand on the handbreak throughout the drive, almost as if you might switch the wipers on instead of stepping on the breaks, in an emergency.
15) You can't call the passing biker 'ABEY GANDOOOO' freely and loudly with daddy next to you. Trust me, he will kill you for your colourful vocabulary before killing the biker who broke the mirror.
16) He's a darned good driver himself and you secretly wish you could drive and / or learn to park like him.
16) He sadly knows he's an awesome driver. :(
2) He forgets that you're four years past the legal driving age, and that you've been driving for almost two years now.
3) He will painfully point out every signal, every pothole and every pebble on the road, expecting you to slow down.
4) He wants to be a part of your life's major decisions, like whether you're going to use the dipper at the next junction or simply wait for the guy on the bicycle pass by you smugly.
5) He gets hyper when your car stalls.
6) You aren't supposed to lose your temper through the course of the drive. Even if it means bursting a blood vessel somewhere in the inner depths of your brain.
7) It's always your fault if the car next to you comes too close for comfort.
8) He goes all 'AAAAAAAAARGH WATCH OUTTTTTTTT' when all you did was forget to slow down at a speed breaker. He then yells at you for swerving to the left when he screamed.
9) He tells you to keep your foot off the clutch, after every three minutes.
10) When he's not discussing the general well-being of the clutch, he wants to know if you can clearly see all the cars coming at you in the rearview mirror.
11) He behaves like you're driving with your eyes closed or while you're painting your nails.
12) He clearly becomes the reason you have no fingernails left.
13) He has a problem with the music you play.
14) He keeps his hand on the handbreak throughout the drive, almost as if you might switch the wipers on instead of stepping on the breaks, in an emergency.
15) You can't call the passing biker 'ABEY GANDOOOO' freely and loudly with daddy next to you. Trust me, he will kill you for your colourful vocabulary before killing the biker who broke the mirror.
16) He's a darned good driver himself and you secretly wish you could drive and / or learn to park like him.
16) He sadly knows he's an awesome driver. :(
Friday, May 01, 2009
The post that proves I'm wasted...
What can be worse than a writer's block? I know! The fact that you have tens of thousands of ideas and incidents happening to you, but nothing coming out of it when you actually sit down and bloody write! *insert angry smiley here*
Ok, that's not entirely true. A colleague told me about this fantastic site, where I can watch ALL episodes of Grey's Anatomy for free! :D Ok, I'm a little retarded like that and didn't know one could even do something like that in the first place. But believe me. My personal life has gone for a toss since this discovery. While on the one hand I feel like giving away giant bear hugs to the colleague who told me about the site, the sane part of my brain thinks she was sent by Satan to ruin all my free time. In fact I bet if we shaved her head and looked really hard, we'd find a 666 engraved on her skull.
I love Grey's Anatomy. Like really do. I know I've ranted about this before and there are still some of you who watch Scrubs, I think you're making a grave mistake. How can something be better than Grey's Anatomy?
Moral of the story is, I am not reading the book I'm supposed to be reading, I'm not blogging, I'm not writing the stuff that I'm supposed to be writing for work over the weekend and my life's a mess.
Heck, I'm not complaining at all. In fact, if you have any sense, go watch Grey's Anatomy NOW! :D
*Scuttles off to watch Season 3, episode 8 with a box of Pringles and a wide grin* :D
Ok, that's not entirely true. A colleague told me about this fantastic site, where I can watch ALL episodes of Grey's Anatomy for free! :D Ok, I'm a little retarded like that and didn't know one could even do something like that in the first place. But believe me. My personal life has gone for a toss since this discovery. While on the one hand I feel like giving away giant bear hugs to the colleague who told me about the site, the sane part of my brain thinks she was sent by Satan to ruin all my free time. In fact I bet if we shaved her head and looked really hard, we'd find a 666 engraved on her skull.
I love Grey's Anatomy. Like really do. I know I've ranted about this before and there are still some of you who watch Scrubs, I think you're making a grave mistake. How can something be better than Grey's Anatomy?
Moral of the story is, I am not reading the book I'm supposed to be reading, I'm not blogging, I'm not writing the stuff that I'm supposed to be writing for work over the weekend and my life's a mess.
Heck, I'm not complaining at all. In fact, if you have any sense, go watch Grey's Anatomy NOW! :D
*Scuttles off to watch Season 3, episode 8 with a box of Pringles and a wide grin* :D
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Yudh Kar!
It's funny how a single status message on GTalk can spur off an entire blog post. And when it's Uglyhair on the other side of the computer, you can expect nothing but entertainment of the lowest kinds. :P Here's why.
A couple of days back, my status message read: WTF lyrics for 16/04/2009: Tere ishq ki deewangi, sar pe chadh ke bole, Tune kya kiya, yeh kya hua? Dil ding daang ding dole....
And Uglyhair, in his usual nosy fashion, cannot resist a comment. Here's an unedited version of what happened next:
Uglyhair: You don't believe the dil can go ding dang ding?
me: Oh I never doubted that!
This was issued in public welfare...
Uglyhair: Here's some for tomorrow...
You bad, you bad, you bad bad boy...
You good, you good, you good good bo-o-ee...
me: LOL
WHAT song is this?
Uglyhair: The title track from the legendary film, Good Boy, Bad Boy...
me: I can think of another one....
Aa ja lag jaa gale se mere thaa kar de, thaa thaa kar de, aa thaa kar de... Aa ja lag jaa gale se mere thaa kar de, thaa thaa kar de, aa thaa kar de...Saare duniya se ishq bayaan kar de, thaa thaa kar de, thaa thaa kar de
Uglyhair: That's not a real song...
me: It is! Golmaal Returns!!
Uglyhair: You can't just make up stuff to malign the Indian film industry...
Tum par case thok dunga...
:P
me: IT IS GOLMAAL RETURNS! HAVEN'T YOU BEEN LISTENING?
Uglyhair: Nope...
:p
I need to, now...
:P
me: Lol
:D
Uglyhair: But I think the most brilliant lyrics are the ones where they try to be super serious, but the situation in the film hams it up...
:P
me: ???
Uglyhair: Like "Danke pe chot padi hai, saamne maut khadi hai, Krishan ne kaha Arjun se, na pyaar jata dushman se, Yudh kar..."
me: Hahaha! which movie?
Uglyhair: In the song, Anil Kapoor is a criminal hanging out in a bar, dressed in a white suit, and three rival gang members are out there to kill him, dressed in black-blue suits, and Jackie Shroff, who is a police inspector, dons a beard and a leather costume, along with his girlfriend Tina Munim, in a similar skimpy leather outfit, so that they can sing in the place and keep an eye on the action...
And the icing, Pran as the police commissioner of the city, also dressed in full leather, running around playing a flute...
I would honestly like to see Hassan Ghafoor show that kind of commitment to his position as Commissioner...
me: Hahahahaha :D :D
Uglyhair: Oh, by the way, did I mention this...
For some reason, the rival gang members, who are there to take out Anil Kapoor, think it's entirely appropriate to incorporate a synchronized dance routine in the middle of their attack...
And surprisingly, they even fail to recognize the commissioner of the police, especially given his stand-out costume and the flute...
me: Hahahahaha...Stop! You're making pot noodles come out through my nose
Uglyhair: Pot noodles will come out of places you never knew they were in the first place...
You imagine Tina Munim is proud of this?
Maybe I should email Anil and ask...
To enlighten yourself, please watch the video of the song under consideration here:
After this entire fruitful exchange, I suppose Uglyhair was pondering over the conversation and also came up with this:
Uglyhair: Moo wait...I think theres been a grave error...
Tu Premi, aaha...
Main Premi, aaha...
Tu raazi, aaha...
Main raazi, aaha...
Phir kya daddy, kya amma...
How did we forget that? :O
After some YouTube searching, I realised he means the following song:
If you didn't think that was funny, go jump into seaweed. :D As for me, I'm going to hum Danke pe chot padi hai and drive the family bonkers! :D
A couple of days back, my status message read: WTF lyrics for 16/04/2009: Tere ishq ki deewangi, sar pe chadh ke bole, Tune kya kiya, yeh kya hua? Dil ding daang ding dole....
And Uglyhair, in his usual nosy fashion, cannot resist a comment. Here's an unedited version of what happened next:
Uglyhair: You don't believe the dil can go ding dang ding?
me: Oh I never doubted that!
This was issued in public welfare...
Uglyhair: Here's some for tomorrow...
You bad, you bad, you bad bad boy...
You good, you good, you good good bo-o-ee...
me: LOL
WHAT song is this?
Uglyhair: The title track from the legendary film, Good Boy, Bad Boy...
me: I can think of another one....
Aa ja lag jaa gale se mere thaa kar de, thaa thaa kar de, aa thaa kar de... Aa ja lag jaa gale se mere thaa kar de, thaa thaa kar de, aa thaa kar de...Saare duniya se ishq bayaan kar de, thaa thaa kar de, thaa thaa kar de
Uglyhair: That's not a real song...
me: It is! Golmaal Returns!!
Uglyhair: You can't just make up stuff to malign the Indian film industry...
Tum par case thok dunga...
:P
me: IT IS GOLMAAL RETURNS! HAVEN'T YOU BEEN LISTENING?
Uglyhair: Nope...
:p
I need to, now...
:P
me: Lol
:D
Uglyhair: But I think the most brilliant lyrics are the ones where they try to be super serious, but the situation in the film hams it up...
:P
me: ???
Uglyhair: Like "Danke pe chot padi hai, saamne maut khadi hai, Krishan ne kaha Arjun se, na pyaar jata dushman se, Yudh kar..."
me: Hahaha! which movie?
Uglyhair: In the song, Anil Kapoor is a criminal hanging out in a bar, dressed in a white suit, and three rival gang members are out there to kill him, dressed in black-blue suits, and Jackie Shroff, who is a police inspector, dons a beard and a leather costume, along with his girlfriend Tina Munim, in a similar skimpy leather outfit, so that they can sing in the place and keep an eye on the action...
And the icing, Pran as the police commissioner of the city, also dressed in full leather, running around playing a flute...
I would honestly like to see Hassan Ghafoor show that kind of commitment to his position as Commissioner...
me: Hahahahaha :D :D
Uglyhair: Oh, by the way, did I mention this...
For some reason, the rival gang members, who are there to take out Anil Kapoor, think it's entirely appropriate to incorporate a synchronized dance routine in the middle of their attack...
And surprisingly, they even fail to recognize the commissioner of the police, especially given his stand-out costume and the flute...
me: Hahahahaha...Stop! You're making pot noodles come out through my nose
Uglyhair: Pot noodles will come out of places you never knew they were in the first place...
You imagine Tina Munim is proud of this?
Maybe I should email Anil and ask...
To enlighten yourself, please watch the video of the song under consideration here:
After this entire fruitful exchange, I suppose Uglyhair was pondering over the conversation and also came up with this:
Uglyhair: Moo wait...I think theres been a grave error...
Tu Premi, aaha...
Main Premi, aaha...
Tu raazi, aaha...
Main raazi, aaha...
Phir kya daddy, kya amma...
How did we forget that? :O
After some YouTube searching, I realised he means the following song:
If you didn't think that was funny, go jump into seaweed. :D As for me, I'm going to hum Danke pe chot padi hai and drive the family bonkers! :D
Friday, April 10, 2009
The time has now come...
...to carry a bottle of deodorant in your bag, at all times.
I'm not going to be talking about the weather because there's nothing else to talk about. I'm going to talk about the weather, because I want protest against nature's conspiracy to kill me by making me melt. So dear God, if I decide it's cool to die in flames, I'll make my own provision by baking myself in a kiln or something. Could you please pay attention to more pressing topics, like getting me a raise?
For all those who were in Mumbai this last week, and thought it was hot, bop yourself on the head with a pen stand. I can say, with considerable authority, that all the heat was concentrated in Goa. Ask me. I was there. Melting.
Apart from that, Goa was good. Working out of a hotel room, handling an entire website, putting up video interviews, sending out bulletins and the daily newsletter with excruciatingly slow internet connections for company seems amazing now, but you won't believe the colourful vocabularly hurled at the laptop every three minutes while I was in the midst of it.
To start at the beginning, I went to Goa with the rest of the team, for the 2009 Goafest. We were staying at this tramp of a place called 'The Old Anchor', but thankfully, were working out of my editor's room at The Leela. We spent almost 14 hours of day at that exquisite place. I wasn't around for last year's Goafest, but I was told how extremely chaotic it was. This year thankfully, we were sorted. Everyone knew what the other was doing, so there was no time wasted with three people doing the same thing, and you know, stuff like that. I pitied my colleagues, who had to go to the beach at all odd hours of the morning and afternoon, and report back. Since I normally handle the website, most of my work included working out of the room. The few times I did step out, resulted in burnt toes and at least 20 kilos lost with the sheer streams of sweat. It was bad.
The Leela however, was beautiful. Not that we got to see much of it. I did go for a short walk one morning with my editor and his daughter, and it was sheer bliss. The entire place is green and one of the most soothing sights I've ever seen. Greenery abounds the entire property, not to mention flowers of every concievable type and colour. Perhaps what appealed to me the most was the abundance of water bodies around the place. Our own room overlooked a lazy lake, with perfectly pretty cottages on the opposite side. Spare time was spent looking into the various fish that swirled around in the water, and contemplating whether to join their escapades or just be content watching them cool themselves from the glare of the sun. Sigh. Fish have it easy sometimes!
The Leela also has a beautiful private beach. The kind that stretches forever, with the most beautiful beach benches you saw. Again, we didn't get the time to go the beach, since it was midnight by the time we finished every night. But I did catch a glimpse of it from afar. The only thought that went around in my mind was, "Man I want to come here for my honeymoon."
However, I've changed my mind since. About the honeymoon, that is.
Why?
Because I don't think I can spend my entire honeymoon cleaning myself with toilet paper.
Which brings me to another very major topic of discussion. What does the West have against water in relation to personal hygiene (read: cleaning of the posterior) ? And why are their five-star Indian counterparts in the hospitality industry suffering such a colonial hangover? Ok, granted that a lot of foreigners visit these places, and we all know what their ideas of washing up after...ahem...unloading themselves, are. But so what? You're still in India, and there are many five-star Indians who visit these hotels too. And no. Don't you dare say that five-star Indians use only toilet paper. I will tie you up with an entire roll of the same paper, if you do. Will it hurt to have toilet paper and a jet spray? Seriously?
I think I need to calm down. But I feel very strongly against places, that care enough to have a seperate 'pillow menu' (I'm serious. They had a menu for pillows. You could order one that made you most comfortable), didn't think it was necessary to have an attachment that helped me keep my self respect. Toilet paper. Seriously!
Anyway, by the time Goafest was over, there wasn't any time left to have 'fun' at Goa. And anyway, I can't enjoy myself on any trip that doesn't involve my family and close friends. Spending time with colleagues in settings that aren't work related isn't my idea of fun. Barely had time to pick up some junk jewelry and enjoy a drive to the airport.
I'm currently on a six day holiday upto Tuesday. The boss let us take our compensatory offs at a stretch, to help us unwind! :D Bhagwan kare sab ko aisa hi boss mile... Actually not. It's fun to gloat!
See you around next time. :) I'm having a slight stomach-related problem, resulting in slight diarrhoea. Not that I mind. BECAUSE I CAN USE WATER WHEN I'M AT HOME!
I'm not going to be talking about the weather because there's nothing else to talk about. I'm going to talk about the weather, because I want protest against nature's conspiracy to kill me by making me melt. So dear God, if I decide it's cool to die in flames, I'll make my own provision by baking myself in a kiln or something. Could you please pay attention to more pressing topics, like getting me a raise?
For all those who were in Mumbai this last week, and thought it was hot, bop yourself on the head with a pen stand. I can say, with considerable authority, that all the heat was concentrated in Goa. Ask me. I was there. Melting.
Apart from that, Goa was good. Working out of a hotel room, handling an entire website, putting up video interviews, sending out bulletins and the daily newsletter with excruciatingly slow internet connections for company seems amazing now, but you won't believe the colourful vocabularly hurled at the laptop every three minutes while I was in the midst of it.
To start at the beginning, I went to Goa with the rest of the team, for the 2009 Goafest. We were staying at this tramp of a place called 'The Old Anchor', but thankfully, were working out of my editor's room at The Leela. We spent almost 14 hours of day at that exquisite place. I wasn't around for last year's Goafest, but I was told how extremely chaotic it was. This year thankfully, we were sorted. Everyone knew what the other was doing, so there was no time wasted with three people doing the same thing, and you know, stuff like that. I pitied my colleagues, who had to go to the beach at all odd hours of the morning and afternoon, and report back. Since I normally handle the website, most of my work included working out of the room. The few times I did step out, resulted in burnt toes and at least 20 kilos lost with the sheer streams of sweat. It was bad.
The Leela however, was beautiful. Not that we got to see much of it. I did go for a short walk one morning with my editor and his daughter, and it was sheer bliss. The entire place is green and one of the most soothing sights I've ever seen. Greenery abounds the entire property, not to mention flowers of every concievable type and colour. Perhaps what appealed to me the most was the abundance of water bodies around the place. Our own room overlooked a lazy lake, with perfectly pretty cottages on the opposite side. Spare time was spent looking into the various fish that swirled around in the water, and contemplating whether to join their escapades or just be content watching them cool themselves from the glare of the sun. Sigh. Fish have it easy sometimes!
The Leela also has a beautiful private beach. The kind that stretches forever, with the most beautiful beach benches you saw. Again, we didn't get the time to go the beach, since it was midnight by the time we finished every night. But I did catch a glimpse of it from afar. The only thought that went around in my mind was, "Man I want to come here for my honeymoon."
However, I've changed my mind since. About the honeymoon, that is.
Why?
Because I don't think I can spend my entire honeymoon cleaning myself with toilet paper.
Which brings me to another very major topic of discussion. What does the West have against water in relation to personal hygiene (read: cleaning of the posterior) ? And why are their five-star Indian counterparts in the hospitality industry suffering such a colonial hangover? Ok, granted that a lot of foreigners visit these places, and we all know what their ideas of washing up after...ahem...unloading themselves, are. But so what? You're still in India, and there are many five-star Indians who visit these hotels too. And no. Don't you dare say that five-star Indians use only toilet paper. I will tie you up with an entire roll of the same paper, if you do. Will it hurt to have toilet paper and a jet spray? Seriously?
I think I need to calm down. But I feel very strongly against places, that care enough to have a seperate 'pillow menu' (I'm serious. They had a menu for pillows. You could order one that made you most comfortable), didn't think it was necessary to have an attachment that helped me keep my self respect. Toilet paper. Seriously!
Anyway, by the time Goafest was over, there wasn't any time left to have 'fun' at Goa. And anyway, I can't enjoy myself on any trip that doesn't involve my family and close friends. Spending time with colleagues in settings that aren't work related isn't my idea of fun. Barely had time to pick up some junk jewelry and enjoy a drive to the airport.
I'm currently on a six day holiday upto Tuesday. The boss let us take our compensatory offs at a stretch, to help us unwind! :D Bhagwan kare sab ko aisa hi boss mile... Actually not. It's fun to gloat!
See you around next time. :) I'm having a slight stomach-related problem, resulting in slight diarrhoea. Not that I mind. BECAUSE I CAN USE WATER WHEN I'M AT HOME!
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Interesting tag, boring read
Since The White Phoenix has "new best friends", both pass on tags to each other and leave me out. I was going to begin doing it anyway, when The Gentle Whisperer suddenly decided to tag me and make me look like less of a loser. *sulks at Phoenix and Chandni*
So here goes. All you have to do, is write down something that is significant about yourself next to each number from one to ten. Got it? Easy peasy...NOT. Here goes.
1 the maximum number of children I'd be willing to have. If any.
2 is the number of cup noodle packs I must eat, in a week.
3 is the number of times I pee every morning, before I leave for work. (Ok, so you didn't need to know that.)
4 is the time I begin getting fidgety at work and start yearning for home.
5 is the number of people I MUST GTalk with, everyday.
6 is number of holidays I have, at the moment. :P
7 is minimum number of times I swear in a day. Minimum.
8 is number of times I drink coffee at work, on issue closing days.
9 is the date I want to die on. No particular reason. I just think it's a great number to die on.
10 is the number of jobs I want to have worked in, in my career. More would be great. Less, not good.
This was a bloody difficult tag. And mine reads like tripe. Anyway, I tag G@k, The Nicest Geek, Saakshi (if you're still reading) and Sreejit. Have fun!
So here goes. All you have to do, is write down something that is significant about yourself next to each number from one to ten. Got it? Easy peasy...NOT. Here goes.
1 the maximum number of children I'd be willing to have. If any.
2 is the number of cup noodle packs I must eat, in a week.
3 is the number of times I pee every morning, before I leave for work. (Ok, so you didn't need to know that.)
4 is the time I begin getting fidgety at work and start yearning for home.
5 is the number of people I MUST GTalk with, everyday.
6 is number of holidays I have, at the moment. :P
7 is minimum number of times I swear in a day. Minimum.
8 is number of times I drink coffee at work, on issue closing days.
9 is the date I want to die on. No particular reason. I just think it's a great number to die on.
10 is the number of jobs I want to have worked in, in my career. More would be great. Less, not good.
This was a bloody difficult tag. And mine reads like tripe. Anyway, I tag G@k, The Nicest Geek, Saakshi (if you're still reading) and Sreejit. Have fun!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I don't mean to sound 40 years old, but...
They don't make mobile phones like they used to. :(
I went to Croma this evening with Lammy and his sister. They wanted to buy her a laptop and eventually settled for a Sony Vaio. Now while we're on the subject, I'll admit I was a lot more than very turned on by the Vaio. All those people promising me lovely presents as part of my wedding gift, kindly give me about 60,000 bucks in cash. I'll go buy myself a Vaio.
After Lammy was done spoiling his sister rotten (Hmph. He didn't even ask me if I wanted a Vaio myself. Talk about bad manners!), we went to the mobile phone section to pick me a phone. All was well. My current N70 was good enough to be sent flying from my building to the next and hear a satisfying smash from, and I was finally about to get a shiny, new, problem-free cellphone.
But this wasn't meant to be. The current set of cellphones in the market make me wonder if a) if I'm expecting too much out of a phone or b) All cellphone designers need to be bopped on the head with a broomstick. Why are most Nokia phones made these days look like electronic counterparts of a vada pav? As for the Sony Ericsson range, they look like they're about to burst into 'Shiny Disco Balls' anytime soon. Whatever happened to being understated and subtle? Aren't people with a budget of about 10-12 thousand supposed to feel elegant if they wanted to?
Nevertheless, I think I can deal with bad and overpriced cellphones, but I need Yoga to be able to handle the guys behind the counter. Firstly, there are ten thousand of them, and the one you initially started discussing a phone with, will realise he doesn't know shit, soon after you've explained whatever you want in great detail. He in turn, will summon another equally random bloke from the north-eastern region of the store, and you find yourself painstakingly saying the same thing over. Some third guy will butt in saying, "What madam? What? What?" and will say the exact same things the second guy told you. All this, while you patiently wait for divine intervention and some lightening to strike these guys dead.
Now you know why Sri Sri Ravishankar is so extremely popular.
At the end of this whole charade, we got the orgasmic laptop for Lammy's sister (I'm still sulking, for the record) and no phone for me (BIG Hmph.) Next time, I'm just going to throw a big tantrum when I'm accompanying somebody to an electronic store, till they give in and buy me the BlackBerry Storm.
Tears always work wonders, or so I'm told.
I went to Croma this evening with Lammy and his sister. They wanted to buy her a laptop and eventually settled for a Sony Vaio. Now while we're on the subject, I'll admit I was a lot more than very turned on by the Vaio. All those people promising me lovely presents as part of my wedding gift, kindly give me about 60,000 bucks in cash. I'll go buy myself a Vaio.
After Lammy was done spoiling his sister rotten (Hmph. He didn't even ask me if I wanted a Vaio myself. Talk about bad manners!), we went to the mobile phone section to pick me a phone. All was well. My current N70 was good enough to be sent flying from my building to the next and hear a satisfying smash from, and I was finally about to get a shiny, new, problem-free cellphone.
But this wasn't meant to be. The current set of cellphones in the market make me wonder if a) if I'm expecting too much out of a phone or b) All cellphone designers need to be bopped on the head with a broomstick. Why are most Nokia phones made these days look like electronic counterparts of a vada pav? As for the Sony Ericsson range, they look like they're about to burst into 'Shiny Disco Balls' anytime soon. Whatever happened to being understated and subtle? Aren't people with a budget of about 10-12 thousand supposed to feel elegant if they wanted to?
Nevertheless, I think I can deal with bad and overpriced cellphones, but I need Yoga to be able to handle the guys behind the counter. Firstly, there are ten thousand of them, and the one you initially started discussing a phone with, will realise he doesn't know shit, soon after you've explained whatever you want in great detail. He in turn, will summon another equally random bloke from the north-eastern region of the store, and you find yourself painstakingly saying the same thing over. Some third guy will butt in saying, "What madam? What? What?" and will say the exact same things the second guy told you. All this, while you patiently wait for divine intervention and some lightening to strike these guys dead.
Now you know why Sri Sri Ravishankar is so extremely popular.
At the end of this whole charade, we got the orgasmic laptop for Lammy's sister (I'm still sulking, for the record) and no phone for me (BIG Hmph.) Next time, I'm just going to throw a big tantrum when I'm accompanying somebody to an electronic store, till they give in and buy me the BlackBerry Storm.
Tears always work wonders, or so I'm told.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wishful thinking...
Someday, I will watch my little princess grow into this big shot doctor.
I'll make sure she gets everything she needs. Just everything.
Oh, she'll turn into this most beautiful woman - tall, with big brown eyes, brown hair and dusky, like me.
She'll marry this handsome boy. What will he be? A doctor, too? A film star? Hmm. Film stars are very good-looking. Let her marry a film star like Shah Rukh Khan. Or maybe his son? Then she'll roam around in so many different cars. What a lovely couple they will make. My baby a famous doctor, and her husband a film star. They will have two healthy babies, just like herself. Oh, what a proud grandmother I'll be.
She will be so happy, that she will not remember me too often. Good. It is not nice for a daughter to keep remembering her mother's house too much, after she is married. But I will miss her every morning when I open my eyes. My little bundle of joy.
She adjusted the little girl tied to her body with a cloth, and was all set to board the train that was pulling into the station. Now if only her husband had kicked her on the right hip instead of the left, she wouldn't wince everytime her baby moved. Never mind.
She entered the train and began shouting out to the women, Rubberband, bangle, clip, earrings le lo....
I'll make sure she gets everything she needs. Just everything.
Oh, she'll turn into this most beautiful woman - tall, with big brown eyes, brown hair and dusky, like me.
She'll marry this handsome boy. What will he be? A doctor, too? A film star? Hmm. Film stars are very good-looking. Let her marry a film star like Shah Rukh Khan. Or maybe his son? Then she'll roam around in so many different cars. What a lovely couple they will make. My baby a famous doctor, and her husband a film star. They will have two healthy babies, just like herself. Oh, what a proud grandmother I'll be.
She will be so happy, that she will not remember me too often. Good. It is not nice for a daughter to keep remembering her mother's house too much, after she is married. But I will miss her every morning when I open my eyes. My little bundle of joy.
She adjusted the little girl tied to her body with a cloth, and was all set to board the train that was pulling into the station. Now if only her husband had kicked her on the right hip instead of the left, she wouldn't wince everytime her baby moved. Never mind.
She entered the train and began shouting out to the women, Rubberband, bangle, clip, earrings le lo....
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
When big things don't matter anymore...
"So what is the problem?"
"Nothing."
"C'mon, Vee. This is ridiculous. There must be something!"
"No there isn't. Nothing worth talking about anyway."
"Oh! So there is a something. Out with it. However silly, however trivial. Let's hear it."
"I'm telling you. There's nothing. Let's switch topics, for heaven's sake!"
"I said I want to hear it. I'm sick of you being distant with me. You're with me in person, but I can tell your mind is somewhere far away. Somewhere you want to be left completely alone. Please sweetheart, can't you tell me what the trouble is?"
"Alright. But don't blame me if I sound demented."
"Sure sweetie. Have I ever laughed at your troubles?"
"Well, for starters, why don't you give me a wake up call in the mornings like you used to?"
"Shucks! You know I like catching up on the news when I wake up."
"You always did. That didn't stop you from calling me before."
"Seriously...Is that it?"
"No. There's more. You don't call me from work more than once anymore. Where are those 50 second calls to tell me that you love me? You don't leave me sweet notes where I can find them like you used to. What happened to the times you used to pick me up from work when I was really late and you were free? Why has watching television taken over that? You don't like planning our weekends anymore. You think a random dinner thrown in makes a weekend special? What about those flowers you used to get delivered to my workplace? Why do you attend more office parties than before, even on holidays? Why are the twenty minutes that you used to spend on the phone at the end of the day, catching up on my life, replaced with just a 'Goodnight, honey. Sleep well!' message?"
"But Vee--"
"Shut up. You asked me what my problem was, and I'm telling you what's bothering me. What's bothering me, is that you're not the person I fell in love with. Were you doing all those utterly sweet things just to woo me? Or is that I don't matter as much as you used to?"
"Vee, listen. Every relationship goes through a phase, where the first few months are all exciting and the world completely revolves around that one person. Then, a few months later--"
"Let me complete that. A few months later, you get a grip on yourself, and decide that the person you wanted is all yours. Then you realise it's time to rearrange priorities and go do more important things. Right? Anyway, you asked me what was on my mind, and I've told you."
"Are you serious? You're mad at me over such little things?"
"Sweetie, it's always the little things."
"Nothing."
"C'mon, Vee. This is ridiculous. There must be something!"
"No there isn't. Nothing worth talking about anyway."
"Oh! So there is a something. Out with it. However silly, however trivial. Let's hear it."
"I'm telling you. There's nothing. Let's switch topics, for heaven's sake!"
"I said I want to hear it. I'm sick of you being distant with me. You're with me in person, but I can tell your mind is somewhere far away. Somewhere you want to be left completely alone. Please sweetheart, can't you tell me what the trouble is?"
"Alright. But don't blame me if I sound demented."
"Sure sweetie. Have I ever laughed at your troubles?"
"Well, for starters, why don't you give me a wake up call in the mornings like you used to?"
"Shucks! You know I like catching up on the news when I wake up."
"You always did. That didn't stop you from calling me before."
"Seriously...Is that it?"
"No. There's more. You don't call me from work more than once anymore. Where are those 50 second calls to tell me that you love me? You don't leave me sweet notes where I can find them like you used to. What happened to the times you used to pick me up from work when I was really late and you were free? Why has watching television taken over that? You don't like planning our weekends anymore. You think a random dinner thrown in makes a weekend special? What about those flowers you used to get delivered to my workplace? Why do you attend more office parties than before, even on holidays? Why are the twenty minutes that you used to spend on the phone at the end of the day, catching up on my life, replaced with just a 'Goodnight, honey. Sleep well!' message?"
"But Vee--"
"Shut up. You asked me what my problem was, and I'm telling you what's bothering me. What's bothering me, is that you're not the person I fell in love with. Were you doing all those utterly sweet things just to woo me? Or is that I don't matter as much as you used to?"
"Vee, listen. Every relationship goes through a phase, where the first few months are all exciting and the world completely revolves around that one person. Then, a few months later--"
"Let me complete that. A few months later, you get a grip on yourself, and decide that the person you wanted is all yours. Then you realise it's time to rearrange priorities and go do more important things. Right? Anyway, you asked me what was on my mind, and I've told you."
"Are you serious? You're mad at me over such little things?"
"Sweetie, it's always the little things."
Friday, March 13, 2009
Now narrating: Moo's stupid deed #89794564
I think I'm a Sardarni, but just don't know it yet. The amount of stupid things I keep doing on an everyday basis seem to be increasing at an alarming level, much to the merriment of the general public. I think I'm just going to listen to Sheroo and Lammy, and admit that I'm a Sardar Cow. :( You'll agree too, when I tell you why.
I was to go shopping with a friend today, and we were going to meet directly at the mall. In the meanwhile I called up Lammy and found out he was headed the same way, so he would drive me all the way. He told me to get ready soon, and I hurriedly left home to meet him at his place. All was cool. I was listening to music while he got ready, I was fantasizing about all the nice stuff I was going to buy for my birthday, and in general life was great. Till he announced that he was ready to leave.
I walked to the door to wear my Oshos and looked at them in utter shock.
I was wearing two different coloured Oshos. Yes. The left one was maroon, and the right one was dark green.
Lammy then walks to the door merrily and says, "What are you waiting for, Cow? Chalo!"
And then he sees what I was waiting for.
Two different coloured chappals.
He stared.
He stared me, then back at the Oshos.
And he laughed. :(
And he laughed some more.
What finally happened, was that I had to wear his mum's heels (I NEVER wear heels), and had to walk in them for what seemed like an eternity. Result: My feet are sore and my heels hurt.
And my friends are still laughing at me.
Now excuse me while I go look for my pagdi.
I was to go shopping with a friend today, and we were going to meet directly at the mall. In the meanwhile I called up Lammy and found out he was headed the same way, so he would drive me all the way. He told me to get ready soon, and I hurriedly left home to meet him at his place. All was cool. I was listening to music while he got ready, I was fantasizing about all the nice stuff I was going to buy for my birthday, and in general life was great. Till he announced that he was ready to leave.
I walked to the door to wear my Oshos and looked at them in utter shock.
I was wearing two different coloured Oshos. Yes. The left one was maroon, and the right one was dark green.
Lammy then walks to the door merrily and says, "What are you waiting for, Cow? Chalo!"
And then he sees what I was waiting for.
Two different coloured chappals.
He stared.
He stared me, then back at the Oshos.
And he laughed. :(
And he laughed some more.
What finally happened, was that I had to wear his mum's heels (I NEVER wear heels), and had to walk in them for what seemed like an eternity. Result: My feet are sore and my heels hurt.
And my friends are still laughing at me.
Now excuse me while I go look for my pagdi.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Well then, WHAT is it?
Is it because I don't fit in your scheme of 'cool'?
Is it because I stay in the suburbs? That my parents actually own a big house in this city, while you stay on rent with hardly anything left to spend on at the end of the month?
Is it because I don't think of wasting my perfectly healthy body with smokes and drinks, in the name of fun?
Is it because I like being around myself most of the times?
Is it to do with choosing not to go pubbing and partying, like everyone else?
Is it to do with unashamedly admitting to be a HUGE Harry Potter fan, although it's extremely chic to do otherwise?
Is it to do with wearing Oshos almost everyday because I happen to like them, and not because I can't afford shoes above Rs. 50?
Is it because I write without any pretensions, at the risk of sounding shallow and superficial and not deep and philosophical?
Is it because I outright refuse to spend 2000 bucks on a haircut, instead of laying awake at night wondering if I could have put the money to better use?
Is it related to me liking Hindustani classical music and old Hindi hits more instead of Pink Floyd and Pearl Jam?
Is it because I value my parents' opinion in most cases, and try conforming to certain rules they've laid down for me?
Is it because I couldn't care less about how I look, and thinking that my pimples or the leucoderma patches on my face, knees and feet aren't the worst things that have happened to me?
Is it because I don't conform to your models of beauty, elegance and style?
Is it because I am not stingy about paying up for people around me, unlike what seems to be the norm these days?
Is it because you don't matter to me and my life in any consequential way, but you still manage to get me down?
Or in a nutshell, is it because I'm not afraid to be 'me'?
What is then, that makes you treat me this way?
Is it because I stay in the suburbs? That my parents actually own a big house in this city, while you stay on rent with hardly anything left to spend on at the end of the month?
Is it because I don't think of wasting my perfectly healthy body with smokes and drinks, in the name of fun?
Is it because I like being around myself most of the times?
Is it to do with choosing not to go pubbing and partying, like everyone else?
Is it to do with unashamedly admitting to be a HUGE Harry Potter fan, although it's extremely chic to do otherwise?
Is it to do with wearing Oshos almost everyday because I happen to like them, and not because I can't afford shoes above Rs. 50?
Is it because I write without any pretensions, at the risk of sounding shallow and superficial and not deep and philosophical?
Is it because I outright refuse to spend 2000 bucks on a haircut, instead of laying awake at night wondering if I could have put the money to better use?
Is it related to me liking Hindustani classical music and old Hindi hits more instead of Pink Floyd and Pearl Jam?
Is it because I value my parents' opinion in most cases, and try conforming to certain rules they've laid down for me?
Is it because I couldn't care less about how I look, and thinking that my pimples or the leucoderma patches on my face, knees and feet aren't the worst things that have happened to me?
Is it because I don't conform to your models of beauty, elegance and style?
Is it because I am not stingy about paying up for people around me, unlike what seems to be the norm these days?
Is it because you don't matter to me and my life in any consequential way, but you still manage to get me down?
Or in a nutshell, is it because I'm not afraid to be 'me'?
What is then, that makes you treat me this way?
Monday, March 09, 2009
Joblessness drove me to write this post...
It’s funny how extremely unrelated, random thoughts keep zooming across in my head, when I’m trying to think of something coherent to talk about. Not only do I have nothing of consequence to say, there are three thousand other distractions that keep me from doing anything useful.
Someone or the other’s phone keeps ringing every minute of every day. I’ll stop at saying THAT IT DRIVES ME INSANE.
There are a bunch of freaks who’re celebrating Holi in my office. Excuse me, kind folks, but since when did this become a fourth grade classroom? One freak came into my section and forcefully applied colour onto me, despite my protests being loud enough to wake up the dead and their kith and kin. Reason being? Holi nahi khelna bura shagun hota hai. I also consider going for an event (I’m headed for one right now) looking like I had an accident with yellow chalk powder, bad luck. Who knows, I might be sacked!
A couple of ad sales people are discussing the benefits of perming hair, when they should be…erm…selling magazine space? I expect the ads come walking right upto their desks, wait for them to finish discussing their beauty regimes, and then plant themselves straight onto the designated page.
My gora boss keeps walking around the office. And he’s heavy-footed, to say the least.
This woman with a very odd sense of dressing keeps floating in and out of our section like an apparition. I don’t like her coming close to me in a radius of five feet.
Someone on GTalk keeps pinging me and I have to go see what they have to say.
I’m making a list of things I need to buy before my birthday, and the people I need to treat.
It’s hard work to keep typing and keeping yourself from dropping off to sleep on your keyboard.
I’m thinking about what it is that is bothering me. It’s something I can’t place, but it’s keeping me down. It’ll come to me soon enough.
I’m thinking of the lovely hammocks and the greenery at Manoribel Resort. Anyone kind enough to take me back there?
I don’t consider it a good sign if my stomach’s started acting funny. I have eaten much more than I should have for lunch.
Time to leave for the above mentioned event, kind folks. Work beckons! Toodle-oo!
Someone or the other’s phone keeps ringing every minute of every day. I’ll stop at saying THAT IT DRIVES ME INSANE.
There are a bunch of freaks who’re celebrating Holi in my office. Excuse me, kind folks, but since when did this become a fourth grade classroom? One freak came into my section and forcefully applied colour onto me, despite my protests being loud enough to wake up the dead and their kith and kin. Reason being? Holi nahi khelna bura shagun hota hai. I also consider going for an event (I’m headed for one right now) looking like I had an accident with yellow chalk powder, bad luck. Who knows, I might be sacked!
A couple of ad sales people are discussing the benefits of perming hair, when they should be…erm…selling magazine space? I expect the ads come walking right upto their desks, wait for them to finish discussing their beauty regimes, and then plant themselves straight onto the designated page.
My gora boss keeps walking around the office. And he’s heavy-footed, to say the least.
This woman with a very odd sense of dressing keeps floating in and out of our section like an apparition. I don’t like her coming close to me in a radius of five feet.
Someone on GTalk keeps pinging me and I have to go see what they have to say.
I’m making a list of things I need to buy before my birthday, and the people I need to treat.
It’s hard work to keep typing and keeping yourself from dropping off to sleep on your keyboard.
I’m thinking about what it is that is bothering me. It’s something I can’t place, but it’s keeping me down. It’ll come to me soon enough.
I’m thinking of the lovely hammocks and the greenery at Manoribel Resort. Anyone kind enough to take me back there?
I don’t consider it a good sign if my stomach’s started acting funny. I have eaten much more than I should have for lunch.
Time to leave for the above mentioned event, kind folks. Work beckons! Toodle-oo!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
You know you've had a REALLY bad day at work when....
1) You get yelled at for your goof-ups, thrice.
2) You get yelled at for someone else's goof-ups.
3) You forget to do something that you've been doing every single day for the past three months, on the ONE day somebody decides to take notice.
4) You think you're getting the chance to finally file a breaking news under your own name, when someone else decides to "help" you. The story hence becomes a "team" copy.
5) Your computer decides it's time to give up on life, and moves onto the last stages of its miserable life.
6) You feel completely alone and lost in an office-ful of people.
7) You miss your mommy the most.
8) You almost have your argument with your best friend.
9) There's a story waiting to be done, but you just can't bear to look at anything remotely related to work.
10) Because of the above point, it means you have to go home and file the story.
11) You're already planning twenty things you need to finish in the next day.
12) Your favourite pen has been taken and not returned. There's no hope to ever see it again, now.
13) You're sitting in office and typing out lists about how depressing your day has been, and make yourself even more miserable.
14) You want to go home, eat your dinner and not ever wake up again.
15) You decide enough is enough, and go order yourself a McChicken burger from McDonalds.
Now you know why I'm depressed. So PLEASE. KEEP away. I bite when provoked.
2) You get yelled at for someone else's goof-ups.
3) You forget to do something that you've been doing every single day for the past three months, on the ONE day somebody decides to take notice.
4) You think you're getting the chance to finally file a breaking news under your own name, when someone else decides to "help" you. The story hence becomes a "team" copy.
5) Your computer decides it's time to give up on life, and moves onto the last stages of its miserable life.
6) You feel completely alone and lost in an office-ful of people.
7) You miss your mommy the most.
8) You almost have your argument with your best friend.
9) There's a story waiting to be done, but you just can't bear to look at anything remotely related to work.
10) Because of the above point, it means you have to go home and file the story.
11) You're already planning twenty things you need to finish in the next day.
12) Your favourite pen has been taken and not returned. There's no hope to ever see it again, now.
13) You're sitting in office and typing out lists about how depressing your day has been, and make yourself even more miserable.
14) You want to go home, eat your dinner and not ever wake up again.
15) You decide enough is enough, and go order yourself a McChicken burger from McDonalds.
Now you know why I'm depressed. So PLEASE. KEEP away. I bite when provoked.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Aspataal - Pyaar ki ek Masti Bhari Kahaani
Yeah yeah, I know. The three and three quarter people who read this blog have been asking me to update. And while it IS true that I have been busy, it is also true that I have been abusing my free DVD membership from Seventymm to the fullest. Hence, I've been ordering DVDs of Grey's Anatomy, and am about to have my eyes fall out with the amount of medical sciences that I've been watching.
One thing is established, though. It is an AWESOME show. Like, seriously. While quite a few people have been telling me that Scrubs is funnier and nicer, I don't think I can have an opinion on the matter, since I don't watch Scrubs. I also say that your opinion is wrong, and Grey's Anatomy HAS to be the best show there is.
I love how balanced and well-thought out the show is. Not once do you get the feeling that the drama is overtaking the hospital bits, and vice versa. Now if this was an Indian show, this is how it would be:
1) Meredith would get pregnant the first time Derek even THOUGHT of speaking to her, with a whole 'Main tumhare bacche ki ma banane waali hoon', bit thrown in for good measure.
2) Meredith would become chief of surgery in the first month of her internship as a reward for her honesty / intelligence.
3) Christina would have been an annoyingly oversmart character, who'd try her best to be witty.
4) Also, Christina would become a mushy, pink-clothes-loving wuss the second she thought she loved Burke.
5) The entire serial would focus on the hospital staff's (including the watchman and the ward boy) love lives, completely forgetting the main focus of the serial - HEALING fucking patients.
6) There would be a love triangle, where both Meredith and Izzy would fall in love with Derek, and keep giving each other dirty looks.
7) Dr. Addison Shepherd would be this woman clad in cakes of make up, zari sarees and too much eye shadow. Also, she'd have to be the lead vamp in this serial.
8) George would be this stupid sidekick, who'd get all the laughter tracks for being fat and dumb. Also, he'd keep tripping over the wires and confuse the scissors with a syringe.
9) No way would Meredith and Izzy live with a man in the same house without being married. In fact, Meredith would have a LOUD, decked mother, who'd try and get her married off to a rich, Punjabi guy.
10) Meredith would be called Dr. Anjali Malhotra and Derek would be Dr. Karan Shrivastava.
11) Derek would be THE expert on all branches of medicine, including heart, brain, colds, pregnancies, pediatrics, sutures, kidneys, toes, teeth, nose-hair, hiccups, inner thighs and belly buttons. In his spare time, he'd practise marine engineering as a hobby.
12) Izzy and Alex would get married after three months of dating; Alex being all goody two shoes and gushing.
13) The show would be called "Aspataal - Pyaar Mohabbat ki Masti bhari Kahaani".
14) The patients, nurses and peons would give Derek a lot of advice on how NOT to break Meredith's heart and the importance of true love, till the chap divorces his wife out of peer pressure.
What is with Indian audiences and the overt histrionics that have to be a part of every show? Why are we as an audience evolving backwards, instead of moving on to better things and developing a more serious, intelligent taste in the entertainment we seek? I say we're evolving backwards, because the same people who used to watch serials like Karamchand, Buniyaad, now religiously watch K Serials. Stuff that is as improbable as a child being born with perfectly braided hair and pink ribbons.
Will we ever learn to think for ourselves and be ashamed at the stuff we blindly accept on television? I guess not. Till then, excuse me while I go Indianise F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
One thing is established, though. It is an AWESOME show. Like, seriously. While quite a few people have been telling me that Scrubs is funnier and nicer, I don't think I can have an opinion on the matter, since I don't watch Scrubs. I also say that your opinion is wrong, and Grey's Anatomy HAS to be the best show there is.
I love how balanced and well-thought out the show is. Not once do you get the feeling that the drama is overtaking the hospital bits, and vice versa. Now if this was an Indian show, this is how it would be:
1) Meredith would get pregnant the first time Derek even THOUGHT of speaking to her, with a whole 'Main tumhare bacche ki ma banane waali hoon', bit thrown in for good measure.
2) Meredith would become chief of surgery in the first month of her internship as a reward for her honesty / intelligence.
3) Christina would have been an annoyingly oversmart character, who'd try her best to be witty.
4) Also, Christina would become a mushy, pink-clothes-loving wuss the second she thought she loved Burke.
5) The entire serial would focus on the hospital staff's (including the watchman and the ward boy) love lives, completely forgetting the main focus of the serial - HEALING fucking patients.
6) There would be a love triangle, where both Meredith and Izzy would fall in love with Derek, and keep giving each other dirty looks.
7) Dr. Addison Shepherd would be this woman clad in cakes of make up, zari sarees and too much eye shadow. Also, she'd have to be the lead vamp in this serial.
8) George would be this stupid sidekick, who'd get all the laughter tracks for being fat and dumb. Also, he'd keep tripping over the wires and confuse the scissors with a syringe.
9) No way would Meredith and Izzy live with a man in the same house without being married. In fact, Meredith would have a LOUD, decked mother, who'd try and get her married off to a rich, Punjabi guy.
10) Meredith would be called Dr. Anjali Malhotra and Derek would be Dr. Karan Shrivastava.
11) Derek would be THE expert on all branches of medicine, including heart, brain, colds, pregnancies, pediatrics, sutures, kidneys, toes, teeth, nose-hair, hiccups, inner thighs and belly buttons. In his spare time, he'd practise marine engineering as a hobby.
12) Izzy and Alex would get married after three months of dating; Alex being all goody two shoes and gushing.
13) The show would be called "Aspataal - Pyaar Mohabbat ki Masti bhari Kahaani".
14) The patients, nurses and peons would give Derek a lot of advice on how NOT to break Meredith's heart and the importance of true love, till the chap divorces his wife out of peer pressure.
What is with Indian audiences and the overt histrionics that have to be a part of every show? Why are we as an audience evolving backwards, instead of moving on to better things and developing a more serious, intelligent taste in the entertainment we seek? I say we're evolving backwards, because the same people who used to watch serials like Karamchand, Buniyaad, now religiously watch K Serials. Stuff that is as improbable as a child being born with perfectly braided hair and pink ribbons.
Will we ever learn to think for ourselves and be ashamed at the stuff we blindly accept on television? I guess not. Till then, excuse me while I go Indianise F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
The Great Bovine Revolution
For those who think cows are dumb:
http://www.3dweb.no/galleri/stuestolbm/bilder/anim1.swf
Don't take us for granted, and don't eat us. (I can eat my fellowcows, since I'm a cannibal).
Keep mooing.
P.S. I don't know how it escaped my mind (Bad, BAD karma), but I forgot to thank The Gentle Whisperer's GTalk status message for this link. So there you go, the credit and link love has been given!
http://www.3dweb.no/galleri/stuestolbm/bilder/anim1.swf
Don't take us for granted, and don't eat us. (I can eat my fellowcows, since I'm a cannibal).
Keep mooing.
P.S. I don't know how it escaped my mind (Bad, BAD karma), but I forgot to thank The Gentle Whisperer's GTalk status message for this link. So there you go, the credit and link love has been given!
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Now if only someone sent me the Pulitzer...
It's such a shame that I've been dedicated this award to The Gentle Whisperer, almost three weeks ago, and I hadn't the time to blog about it (by now I do hope you know that having no time = utmost laziness). Anyway, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, THIS is what has been bestowed upon me. :)
“These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this text into the body of their award.”
Now although I've always believed that the sole purpose of this blog was to keep me from meddling with mom when she was really busy making laddoos or some such stuff, it could also be all of those things mentioned above, if I dwell on the thought intently. Now before you expose me for the fraud that I am, I'm gonna pass it on to some equally fraudulent bloggers, like the following:
1) Monica - Who has been ill for almost the past month, and who's my favourite person at work. Also, she's too nice to be much of a fraud. :P
2) The White Phoenix - Fraud of the first order. Which is why he and I get along like a house on fire, I suppose. I also know he'll take another year to blog about this award.
3) Mani Meow - This woman's one of my favourite bloggers of all time . :) She truly deserves this award.
I know the conditions say I need eight bloggers to pass on this award to, but I'm a fraud so I won't do it. Also I don't have eight blogger friends who would be interested enough to receive the award.
There's lots more to say, but I think I'll leave this post be about the award. :) Take care, my little ones.
“These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this text into the body of their award.”Now although I've always believed that the sole purpose of this blog was to keep me from meddling with mom when she was really busy making laddoos or some such stuff, it could also be all of those things mentioned above, if I dwell on the thought intently. Now before you expose me for the fraud that I am, I'm gonna pass it on to some equally fraudulent bloggers, like the following:
1) Monica - Who has been ill for almost the past month, and who's my favourite person at work. Also, she's too nice to be much of a fraud. :P
2) The White Phoenix - Fraud of the first order. Which is why he and I get along like a house on fire, I suppose. I also know he'll take another year to blog about this award.
3) Mani Meow - This woman's one of my favourite bloggers of all time . :) She truly deserves this award.
I know the conditions say I need eight bloggers to pass on this award to, but I'm a fraud so I won't do it. Also I don't have eight blogger friends who would be interested enough to receive the award.
There's lots more to say, but I think I'll leave this post be about the award. :) Take care, my little ones.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
'Facade' is a fascinating word
It's such a difficult task to put up a mask of happiness, when something's eating you inside. To feign normality and nonchalance, when all you want to do is to look yourself in your room and hug yourself to sleep. Because you don't want anyone to even come close to you.
It's such a tough job swallowing the fact, that someone you trust and look up to, says something that makes you sick and want to retch. When the same someone stood by you when a similar thing happened in the recent past. Why does this hurt more? Because you didn't expect this person to do something like that?
What next? Sulk? Stop talking? Cut calls? Forgive?
Nah. Not this one.
It's such a tough job swallowing the fact, that someone you trust and look up to, says something that makes you sick and want to retch. When the same someone stood by you when a similar thing happened in the recent past. Why does this hurt more? Because you didn't expect this person to do something like that?
What next? Sulk? Stop talking? Cut calls? Forgive?
Nah. Not this one.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart....
...But the useless readers that you are, you don't even leave me comments these days. Hmph.
YAY! Christmas is here, and tis the season for giving. Now since it's impossible to give all the people I love a present (because I'm broke and miserly), I'm going to be uber cheap and tell them what I'd ideally like to give them. They in turn, can close their eyes and think that they've already received a present from me, or buy it themselves and thank me for it.
So anyhoo. Merry Christmas and a happy new year everyone, and here's your present!
1) Dad - Dear dad, I'm going to gift you a pair of hearing aids, for those umpteen number of times you drive me up the wall by making me repeat everything I say. About. 20,000. Times. Actually, this is more like a present to me. And since you're my favourite guy in the whole world, I'm also going to buy you a Honda Accord like you've always wanted, real soon. Honest! *hugs*
2) Mom - I'm going to give you a sackful of patience and the will to do my bidding. It would most certainly work for you if you didn't tell me to clean my room every single day. But you're also my best buddy, so I'm gonna give you a house by the beach. And I'll be VERY offended if you don't live in it with dad, for at least six months of the year.
3) Sheroo - I'm gonna get you a new leash and a muzzle, and also a library filled with about two million books. You'll never have to complain about having nothing to read, again!
4) The Witty Goldfish - What more could you want, when you have such an amazing sister-in-law like me? Most definitely, those amazing shoes I saw at Nike (as soon as I can afford them. Be patient!)
5) Lammy - A lizard killing spray that annihilates lizards in a radius of 500 feet, and a GRAND wedding with the woman of your choice. Oh oh oh! And how could I forget those pills that cure the "both-feet-in-mouth" disease? I can't believe how thoughtful I am!
6) G@kky - Most definitely, a haircut. Rather, I think I'll gift you a salon, since ONE haircut certainly won't create even a dent in the forest of your hair. Till then, I'll buy you a gaming console of your choice.
7) Tooth - Some sense and loads of peace of mind. Also, a river full of Davidoff Coolwaters and a Tag Heuer watches.
8) Zander - A Hayabusa, whether you want / like / need one or not. Fact of the matter is, I want one with a chauffeur. :P
9) The White Phoenix - A six month paid stint with rehab. People, he's the sole reason the cigarette and alcohol industries are flourishing. Don't believe me? Go read his last post. The nice person in me will also give him a year long supply of Rajdhani tickets and free food at Hard Rock Cafe, so he can pop into Mumbai and visit me whenever he misses me too much.
10) Mika - If wishes were horses, I'd arrange for you to get a scholarship to Vidal Sassoon. So for now, I'm just going to offer you my head and let you do whatever the hell you wanted to do with my hair. Without complaining (Offer exclusive of hair straigtening and colour, thank you very much).
As for me, all you ten people could chip in and buy me a duplex flat on Worli Seaface, and perhaps throw in an Audi on the house (pun unintended) so my garage won't feel empty. In case you're feeling more generous than usual, do feel free to buy me an iPod Classic, a Nike showroom and a Nokia N95. Suggestions are welcome. Do drop me an email.
Thank you for your patience. You are most kind.
*scuttles away*
YAY! Christmas is here, and tis the season for giving. Now since it's impossible to give all the people I love a present (because I'm broke and miserly), I'm going to be uber cheap and tell them what I'd ideally like to give them. They in turn, can close their eyes and think that they've already received a present from me, or buy it themselves and thank me for it.
So anyhoo. Merry Christmas and a happy new year everyone, and here's your present!
1) Dad - Dear dad, I'm going to gift you a pair of hearing aids, for those umpteen number of times you drive me up the wall by making me repeat everything I say. About. 20,000. Times. Actually, this is more like a present to me. And since you're my favourite guy in the whole world, I'm also going to buy you a Honda Accord like you've always wanted, real soon. Honest! *hugs*
2) Mom - I'm going to give you a sackful of patience and the will to do my bidding. It would most certainly work for you if you didn't tell me to clean my room every single day. But you're also my best buddy, so I'm gonna give you a house by the beach. And I'll be VERY offended if you don't live in it with dad, for at least six months of the year.
3) Sheroo - I'm gonna get you a new leash and a muzzle, and also a library filled with about two million books. You'll never have to complain about having nothing to read, again!
4) The Witty Goldfish - What more could you want, when you have such an amazing sister-in-law like me? Most definitely, those amazing shoes I saw at Nike (as soon as I can afford them. Be patient!)
5) Lammy - A lizard killing spray that annihilates lizards in a radius of 500 feet, and a GRAND wedding with the woman of your choice. Oh oh oh! And how could I forget those pills that cure the "both-feet-in-mouth" disease? I can't believe how thoughtful I am!
6) G@kky - Most definitely, a haircut. Rather, I think I'll gift you a salon, since ONE haircut certainly won't create even a dent in the forest of your hair. Till then, I'll buy you a gaming console of your choice.
7) Tooth - Some sense and loads of peace of mind. Also, a river full of Davidoff Coolwaters and a Tag Heuer watches.
8) Zander - A Hayabusa, whether you want / like / need one or not. Fact of the matter is, I want one with a chauffeur. :P
9) The White Phoenix - A six month paid stint with rehab. People, he's the sole reason the cigarette and alcohol industries are flourishing. Don't believe me? Go read his last post. The nice person in me will also give him a year long supply of Rajdhani tickets and free food at Hard Rock Cafe, so he can pop into Mumbai and visit me whenever he misses me too much.
10) Mika - If wishes were horses, I'd arrange for you to get a scholarship to Vidal Sassoon. So for now, I'm just going to offer you my head and let you do whatever the hell you wanted to do with my hair. Without complaining (Offer exclusive of hair straigtening and colour, thank you very much).
As for me, all you ten people could chip in and buy me a duplex flat on Worli Seaface, and perhaps throw in an Audi on the house (pun unintended) so my garage won't feel empty. In case you're feeling more generous than usual, do feel free to buy me an iPod Classic, a Nike showroom and a Nokia N95. Suggestions are welcome. Do drop me an email.
Thank you for your patience. You are most kind.
*scuttles away*
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