The Trinity

After all the squabbles, heres a toast hoping The Trinity finishes it off in style

The Spark

You can blame it on anybody, but, I know the reason. It is definitely about no-frill airlines. Ok, you have lost the context now. I was trying to prove the Chaos Theory right in my own small way and I had come up with a deduction. And that is you can successfully link any consequence to any logic and come up with a justification. The inspiration very dutifully owes the wee bit of inspiration to no-frill airlines. Simply because, the flight time from X to Y is filled with a void of inactivity. No readables, no eatables, no seeables, no moveables (have you just seen the atrocious leg space on Deccan or the complex that the flight pursers have when a Kingfisher attendant just walks by… Man, I do really feel for these guys)– I mean how can you just survive. So the only consequence is to increase the fertility of your brain. So in a fit of spiteful disdain, I just tried to rake myself to find out does Aamir Khan really have a soft spot for Dimple Kapadia. And although I did not have the luxury to turn to my fellow passenger on the aisle seat to say, “Elementary, Mr. Errrr,” since he was snoring away, I had to pinch myself for the astounding findings.

To most the similarity would end at okay they did do Dil Chahta Hai together, where they hardly has a common footage and that’s that. But, no dear reader, delve a bit deeper. Just as I was nearing Delhi airport, my cab was stopped right near the entrance, where a teenaged lady spoke out, “Sir, do you condemn the blasts on Samjhauta Express?” I grew timid. Was I supposed to take stands here? Who do you think was behind this heinous act? Should we go and pee on our neighbors? But, I heard myself say, “Of course I do. It’s a dastardly act.” And she smiled. Well…. “Good. Sir, as a responsible citizen, can you show your solidarity to condemn this act, could you please do something?” I was completely on the back foot for the classic cut past point, just that I could not find the ball. “Hmmmm. What am I supposed to do?” “Just light this candle Sir. We are from the St. Helen of Troy Senior Certificate School campaigning for what happened near Panipat today.” (Sigh). “Ok.”

And then I thought this was not the first time I did it. I lighted candles at Vashi, Mahim and Kurla against July 11. I lighted candles at Nerul for independence day. I lighted candles to celebrate Shiv Sena win at the BMC (which obviously gave me a preferential go ahead through the traffic barricade). The only time I did not was on my birthday. Shame on me. So what was this candle story? And then I realized the genesis. Right on seat of 9B on the Deccan bound for Mumbai. Remember Rang De Basanti and remember Ms. Kapadia’s new found scented candle business. Remember the Narmada Bachao Andolan and the perfect promotion of the candle theory. I mean this was it. The ultimate camouflage to surrogate your lady love and yet vouch for her business. Putting your weight to ensure she thrives as you make hay charging astronomical amounts for hedonic bellicism and moustaches for movies that do not seem to make head or tail. Why had not I thought it earlier? The connection had to be scented candles.

And I would QED the matter once and for all. Remember we had a long standing school going rumor about how Darr was offered to Aamir who did not take it up since he did not want to have his daylights bashed out by Punjab da Puttar. And why not, he had been seeing Ms. Kapadia for quite a long time. How could he stutter for his dear flame Kiran in front of him.
His show of love had to be restrained, yet passionate, suave, yet complicated. He had to whoosh away his Kiran right under the Deol eyes, not be extinguished by his own bitter rival. And long after that he swore the perfect vengeance by marrying himself off for a second time. And you guess it right, his wife had to have just one name – K-k-k-k-iran.

And drooling away in that trance, I was about to find out more when a small sound reverberated, “Sir could you straighten your seat and fasten your seat belt. We are about to land in Mumbai.”… and the music in the background said, “… we are sorry for the delay due to heavy traffic at Delhi airport. We apologize for the inconvenience caused and thank you for choosing Deccan…” Damn it and bear it!!

Love Chronicles

Last night while commuting, I stumbled upon an interesting bit of article. Now it seems very coincidental that it came around the same time that I was toying with an idea to write about the History of Love. The article just reiterated the thought that it was time and the proclivity to 14th of February emphasized it more so. So here goes the article:

Call it the eternal embrace
Couple Found Hugging 5,000 Yrs After Burial
Reuters ROME
ARCHAEOLOGISTS in Italy have discovered a couple buried 5,000 to 6,000 years ago, hugging each other. “It’s an extraordinary case,” said Elena Menotti, who led the team on their dig near the northern city of Mantova.
“There has not been a double burial found in the Neolithic period, much less two people hugging — and they really are hugging.”
Ms Menotti said she believed the two, almost certainly a man and a woman although that needs to be confirmed, died young because their teeth were mostly intact and not worn down.
“I must say that when we discovered it, we all became very excited. I’ve been doing this job for 25 years. I’ve done digs at Pompeii, all the famous sites,” she said.
“But, I’ve never been so moved because this is the discovery of something special,”Ms Menotti said. A laboratory will now try to determine the couple’s age at the time of death and how long they had been buried.

But then again there was an anticlimactic douse to the arousal.
Friend camouflaged as critic: “What are you doing?”
Me: Blogging

Friend camouflaged as critic: In office? Wow. What about?
Me: History of Love

Friend camouflaged as critic: Blogging or is it a thesis paper? Well the history has to be short, right?
Me: Huh?

Friend camouflaged as critic: Ya just three and half years old.
Me: What are you talking about dumb nut!!

Friend camouflaged as critic: Microsoft Vista of course. What did you think? Love is the anagram for Launch of Vista and Exchange. What else do you think?

And I banged my head against my desk.

And then again I found inspiration in the ashes when Star announced that for its KBC Valentines day special it would air a special episode with celebrities showcasing three types of love stories: friends (with Karan Johar and Farah Khan at the hot seat), a couple (with Malaika and Arbaaz Khan donning the mantle) and siblings (Farhan and Zoya Akhtar).

So in the midst of such incestuous bed fellows, I thought that I would contribute my bit. And here’s chronicling some of the most beautiful love stories for 2007 year to date.

The Couple

Who else. You found them gyrating in cop and robber stories. You found them solving enigmas of business personalities. You found them in polygamous extravaganza with a stupid tree in Patna suddenly confused with its new found identity other than the routine canine attention that it usually draws. You found them in Bentleys, in Siddhivinayaks, in front of tarot readers, in film premiers, in unclaimed cash debacles with customs, in sartorial stories for the big flash wedding and you just say, hold it! Give me a break. Better get married soon before I dump my television set to get rid of you flashing on all news channels. You have done enough to prove that you are really in love and although Salman-e-Ishq might try to could cry hoarse in the aftermath in iron chains, or even try to shower a lady with puppies, that’s not the way it is done. Best wishes for the matrimony but, please get it done fast before I lose it completely.

The Friends

This is really the season of friendship toasts. But, the last few days have made the testimony bolder and stronger. A case of true corporate governance, when your employee is mortally or marginally injured at the shop floor, you compensate or reward him for his unflinching commitment. And if your employer just tries to make you look insignificant by the “magnitude” of such incentive, you would look at him with your bloodshot eyes and say, “Saab! Mein aaj bhi feke hue paise nahi uthate” in your usual baritone. But, loves now in the air and the injuries are not those ones where you have a huge burden thrown down by Bakhtawar or one where the machines just came off because seth had not imported new ones for cadaverous cost control. You have just been hooved by a school of camel. And so the reward had to be a Rolls Royce Phantom. For this, I was willing to be pasted by a school of elephants.

Oh and the story does not end here. A couple of days back, daddy had gifted dear little sonny a swan white Bentley. And then the thing got all confusing by the customs, the enquiries and everything else. And then daddy dear forgot how he had been pointing accusative fingers at IT officials who had come to pay him a courtesy visit at his hospital bed (how audacious of them!). So enter their captive genie and says, “Hold on. That Bentlee is mine. I have paid for all the paper work. (Sir only if you could spell Bent-Lee). I always have regarded Jalsa as my private resort and unless big daddy throws me out I will continue to regard it as so.” I gave up the story at that. And that investment banker bug me still pokes at me for that tax angle. Nonsense! (in clear Paresh Rawal style in Andaz Apna Apna).

And there were also…

And obviously there were the usual also rans.

Father figures egging on people to perform on the cricket field and little lad responding with a blitzkrieg in Chennai, but not before whispering in little daddy’s ears “heres our batting order” for today.

And obviously corporate love. Till you have been my enemy, I will ensure you do not get a penny, but as soon as you are my friend heres eight crores as a token for our new found friendship.

In such multitude of celebration, I think we better stay clear and treat the new Valentines day the way it ought to be which is “You become mushy near Marine Drive and I will push red chilli powder up your ….”.

Psst psst: Coming soon. How to become rich without leaving your desk

Couldnt have asked for a better read today

ABC of Bengali

A is for Awpheesh (as in Office). This is where the average Kolkakattan goes and spends a day hard(ly) at work. And if he works for the "West Bengal Gawrment" he will arrive at 10, wipe his forehead till 11, have a tea break at 12, throw around a few files at 12.30, break for lunch at 1, smoke an unfiltered cigarette at 2, break for tea at 3, sleep sitting down at 4 and go home at 4:30. It's a hard life!

B is for Bhision. For some reason many Bengalis don't have good bhision. In fact in Kolkata most people are wearing spectacles all the time.

C is for Chappell. Currently, this is the Bengali word for the Devil, for the worst form of evil. In the night mothers put their kids to sleep saying, fNa ghumaley Chappell eshey dhorey niye jabev

D is for Debashish or any other name starting with Deb-. By an ancient law every fourth Bengali Child has to be named Debashish. So you have a Debashish everywhere and trying to get creative they are also called Deb, Debu, Deba with variations like Debanik, Deboprotim, Debojyoti, etc. thrown in at times.


E is for Eeesh. This is a very common Bengali exclamation made famous by Aishwarya Rai in the
movie Devdas. It is estimated that on an average a Bengali, especially Bengali women, use eeesh 10,089 times every year. "Ei Morechhey" is a close second to Eeesh.

F is for Feeesh. These are creatures that swim in rivers and seas and are a favourite food of the Bengalis. Despite the fact that a fish market has such strong smells, with one sniff a Bengali knows if a fish is all right. If not he will say 'eeesh what feeesh is theesh!'

G is for Good name. Every Bengali boy will have a good name like Debashish or Deboprotim and a pet name like Montu, Bablu, etc. While every Bengali girl will have pet names like Tia, Tuktuki, Mishti, Khuku, etc.

H is for Harmonium. This the Bengali equivalent of a rock guitar. Take four Bengalis and a Harmonium and you have the successors to The Bheatles!

I is for lleesh. This is a feeesh with 10,000 bones which would kill any ordinary person, but which the Bengalis eat with releeesh!

J is for Jhola. No self respecting Bengali is complete without his Jhola. It is a shapeless cloth bag where he keeps all his belongings and he fits an amazing number of things in. Even as you read this there are 2 million jholas bobbling around Kolkata- and they all look exactly the same! Note that 'Jhol' as in Maachher Jhol is a close second

K is for Kee Kaando !. It used to be the favourite Bengali exclamation till eeesh took over because of Aishwarya Rai (now Kee Kando's agent is trying to hire Bipasha Basu).

L is for Lungi - the dress for all occasions. People in Kolkata manage to play football and cricket wearing it not to mention the daily trip in the morning to the local bajaar. Now there is talk of a lungi expedition to Mt. Everest .

M is for Minibus. These are dangerous half buses whose antics would effortlessly frighten the living daylights out of all James Bond stuntmen as well as Formula 1 race car drivers.

N is for Nishchoi. This is the Bengali word for 'of course'. It is the most interesting word in any expression!

O is for Oil. The Bengalis believe that a touch of mustard oil will cure anything from cold (oil in the nose), to earache (oil in the ear), to cough (oil on the throat) to piles (oil you know where!)

P is for Phootball. This is always a phavourite phassion of the Kolkattan. Every Bengali is born an expert in this game. The two biggest clubs there are Mohunbagan and East Bengal and when they play the city comes to a stop.

Q is for Queen. This really has nothing to do with the Bengalis or Kolkata, but it's the only Q word I could think of at this moment. There's also Quilt but they never use them in Kolkata.

R is for Robi Thakur. Many nany years ago Rabindranath got the Nobel Prize. This has given the right to all Bengalis no matter where they are to frame their acceptance speeches as if they were directly related to the great poet and walk with their head held high. This also gives Bengalis the birthright to look down at Delhi and Mumbai and of course 'all non-Bengawlees'! Note that 'Rawshogolla' comes a close second !

S is for Shourav. Now that they finally produced a genuine cricketer and a captain, Bengalis think that he should be allowed to play until he is 70 years old. Of course they will see to it that he stays in good form by doing a little bit of "joggo" and "maanot".

T is for Trams. Hundred years later there are still trams in Kolkata. Of course if you are in a hurry it's faster to walk.

U is for Aambrela. When a Bengali baby is born they are handed one.

V is for Bhaayolence. Bengalis are the most non-violent violent people around. When an accident happens they will fold up their sleeves, shout and scream and curse and abuse, Chherey De Bolchhiv but the last time someone actually hit someone was in 1979.

W is for Water. For three months of the year the city is underwater and every year for the last 200 years the authorities are taken by surprise by this!

X is for Xmas. It's very big in Kolkata, with Park Street fully lit up and all Bengalis agreeing that they must eat cake that day.

Y is for Yesshtaarday. Which is always better than today for a Bengali (see R for Robi Thakur).

Z is for Jebra, Joo, Jipper and Jylophone.

Prompt disclaimer: This is not a work of creation from Contramental. Whoever has composed this, hats off to thy genius! The least that I can say, "Eet ees phunny!"

Bombay Blues

Monday blues had never had a different meaning than what was yesterday. I had been to a cricket match. Of the domestic class. Of Ranji finals. Of two provinces – Bengal and Mumbai. The triviality ends here. From here on everything was magnanimous. Mumbai back from the threats of relegation, of realms of mockery being reduced to 0 for 5 against Baroda and having fortified their finals bastion with the likes of Sachin Tendulkar, Zaheer Khan and Ramesh Powar. Bengal on the other hand, asking Dada to join hands with them and chasing a humungous 472 for the last innings for victory. The start of the game had its share of drama, when Sachin showed his loyalty towards his state agreeing to stand in the dressing room to cheer his team on. And why not? He regarded them as his extended “egg-eating” family. Zaheer Khan had realized that the best way to gain the attention of selectors was to play strategy. So switch allegiance to Mumbai when there’s the chance. Mumbai was handicapped by the absence of players like Sairaj Bahutule when they found the going tough. Two, start a restaurant business in the lands where “Pawar” would like. So Zaks came up in Pune and make mince meat of some hapless firings in county cricket. But that’s the background of the story.

By the time I entered the Wankhede, the stage had been set in all magnanimity. The zaks debut had been stellar. The opposition had been vanquished in the first innings and the frontline bowlers from the opposition had been made to understand, “Look dude, you might have taken 57 wickets on the way up here, but if you are in the Dada-league and don’t have an egg-sponsor you just don’t matter in the national scheme of things.”

So just the right time for a juicy day of cricket chasing a mammoth 472 and the score on 98 for 2, just the right recipe of which cricketing romanticism could be synthesized. By the time I glimpsed in Dada was in tow with a young diminutive figure – Manoj Tiwari. The cricket on the ground had 4 angles: Bengal, Mumbai, Ganguly and the Mumbai outside the playing arena. Zaheer charges and is shown the way to the cover boundary. And the crowd roars. But wait… Isn’t it supposed to happen the other way? Dude, you are in Mumbai and Ganguly is your opposition. Zaheer again, short and slightly wide. Bisected through gully and point and the crowd erupts again. Whats wrong with you people? Vengsarkar cannot take it any longer. He screams directions to the home team to Tendulkar, who by that time had become the proxy skipper. Amol Muzumdar had been relegated to the sidelines. The fielders are frantically scurrying. And within the butterflies in your stomach, you can just feel that folklore could just turn reality. Because its Bengal on 272 for 3.

Salim, a young college bloke on my side enthusiastically says, “Bengal should lose, but Dada should get a century.” (Mr. More you could not have been slapped harder). And that is when you really take notice. The other person. Short, swaggery. And when Zaheer dropped in short and just asked the ball to be fetched from the mid wicket boundary. On being eyed by the bowler, he seemed more interested in adjusting his sleeves while taking a scroll towards square leg. As I sat near the press box I heard Arun Lal scream, “Watch out, the new star from Bengal after Ganguly. He should be in the Indian team right now.” And why not? This 17 year old had scored 796 throughout this season. He scored a fifty for the first time this season when he got out on 94 today. Tiwary seemed to be the perfect answer to the tame outlook of the Bengal team of the past lacking the killer punch. The perfect reply to the Mumbai team’s claim that “This Bengal team was a 70 – 80 scorer.”

There was another strong message from Rohan Gavaskar to his “home” team. And while Bengal rode with him till almost 330 even Ganguly paled in the background.

There were lots of messages throughout the entire day. The dejection of a weak capitulation in the first innings, the strong message to selectors, “look beyond regionalism and power bastions, for a change look at performance”, the message for an individual rising above a team and then obviously ruthlessly salted by cricket being won as a team alone and not by individuals. And not to forget, the message which came out of a sole poster ironically on the Sachin Tendulkar stand, “Chappell, don’t take punga with Dada.”