tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72654618289955851352024-02-06T19:29:38.547-08:00The JaywalkJAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-58263560331526972502014-06-11T03:44:00.002-07:002014-06-11T03:44:40.459-07:00Oscar Wilde - Women are to be loved...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-41946296276624809952014-05-05T11:28:00.002-07:002014-05-05T11:28:53.111-07:00Shootout At Malaka Street<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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The crazy crowd was scurrying for cover. There was pandemonium all over. It was something similar to what Jay had observed in English movies where a Godzilla arrives or Martians attack. But that’s a problem of North America. We, the poorer cousins in this part of the world were still being decimated by the age-old-less-interesting vices like hatred, hunger and greed. So, amidst the gunshots Jay suspected something more. The mystery didn't last long.</div>
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Smell of gunpowder had filled the restaurant. From the corner of the teakwood table; Jay could see a man in black suit with his face resting unapologetically on the Thai dish he had
ordered. Blood was oozing out from his forehead to the dish making the red curry redder than blood. The lady sitting in front of him
had her throat splintered by a bullet. The preliminary assessment suggested it was a terrorist attack.</div>
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Ashesh, Indra and Jay surveyed the smoky surrounding of the restaurant. There was a sea of motionless bodies with frozen eyes staring at the vacuum. None of them even had the time to wonder what went wrong in their gastronomic adventure. Remains of their yesteryear
reflexes probably had saved our superheroes – but for how long, no one knew. Erstwhile superheroes Ashesh, Jay, Indra, Vaishali and Kajili along with their kids (Vritti and Adi) had gathered to celebrate Ashesh's B'day.<br />
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“Surrender yourself – This is NV.
You can't defeat me this time”, Announced a massive figure in his Devilish voice.<br />
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All of a sudden the familiarity of the voice struck our superheroes. They had known the enemy for
long and defeated him in many a battle. The eight feet, four legged evil with ten hands seemed
to have been brought back from oblivion. Without pondering over the how of it, they did what the situation asked for - A Counter Attack with whatever weapons the dinner table offered. Jay used the chilli sauce to blind the monster's eyes. Indra swung the sharp knife to cut NV's spreading girth. Ashesh threw a full glass of wine to counter his acid filled heart. However, these were of no use as the once familiar foe had now mutated to an entity
which was unexpectedly resilient and morbidly dangerous. NV was growing in proportions minute by minute – engulfing everything around. The life size
threat was around or was within, soon became difficult to judge.</div>
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Jay was shot in the arm.
Indra’s ammunition of cutlery was also over. Vaishali and Kajili – with all
their might were hugging the carrycot, the small comfortable abode for their
little ones. Their eyes though would reveal – comfort was a distant notion.
Fear rested in there. There are moments in life when
even the mightiest of them all, face self doubt and despair. Moments, when hope tries to
break away and self pity seems to surround you like dark clouds. However, the
unsuspecting mind never thought such a moment would arrive in a pleasant evening at Malaka Street.</div>
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With no time in hand, Ashesh
suggested to save the kids at least. They plotted the plan to divert the
attention of the monster so that Vaishali and Kajili could make an attempt to escape. They all agreed - this time without any customary arguments.<br />
They had to spread wide. Ashesh and Indra dived to the table on the right with a plate for a shield. By the time they lodged themselves to relative safety in the new barrack, the twosome had in their wounded hand only remains of the ceramic disc. They screamed and without wasting any time, they started to hurl whatever resources they could lay their hands on. Observing NV's momentary distraction, Jay nodded to Vaishali and
Kajili. The desperate moms clutched the carrycots in their hands and sprinted towards the entrance. Once, they were a few meters away from the place, "hope" brought them to senses. With a
feeble smile Kajli looked inside the carrycots and utter shock almost burst her
veins. The kids weren't there. Vaishali was equally dumbfounded. Their moist eyes led them back to the battleground.</div>
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<i>What they saw back there was an illogical turn of events. A scene which a blog like this with its limited understanding cannot justifiably describe. But we conjure up our own alternate forms of reality and thus, we exist - so I move ahead.</i><br />
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The smoke had settled. Vritti and Adi were smiling and playing with each other. There was no sign of NV. Our battle spent superheroes, were only staring at each other. Vaishali and Kajli hugged their kids. After spending some time to ensure themselves that Vritti and Adi were unhurt, they turned their attention towards the men. Their curiosity to know what happened overshadowed any concern for injuries that such a conflict may have left.<br />
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None of them had any answers except Jay. When the four pairs of eyes stared inquisitively towards Jay, he opened up - </div>
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"I was hiding behind a chair. I could hear the devil's heavy steps approaching me. Everything seemed to be over. I picked up a fork and prepared myself to perish with a last hurrah.Then, I heard a little laughter and after a while, some more. The giggles were interrupted with a few "hmmms" and "uhhs". I peeped through a hole in the chair to find an astonishing scene. Vritti and Adi were in front of the monster laughing in a way as if there was a clown, jumping and dancing for their entertainment. Each laughter seemed to break into a hundred pieces and with each piece a fairy was born. The fairies seemed to absorb all the malice that NV could throw on them. Soon, the monster started to shrink and the fairies just smiled and smiled. A sudden flash of light with a loud shrill of joy filled the scene and then, they all disappeared."</div>
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<i>The watchman </i><i>flashed the torchlight inside the car and with his squint eyes tried to</i><i> recognise the guests who had arrived at such an odd hour.</i></div>
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<i>"Boy wonder! This is your home. Wake up and get off! unless you are planning to spend the night in the car", shouted Ashesh and shook Jay really hard.</i></div>
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<i>Indra added from the back seat,"This bugger had a little too much of wine in the party!!"</i></div>
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<i>Then, they all smiled and laughed a little. Jay looked at his friends and saw only goodwill and no envy.</i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #e69138; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><b>"When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies." </b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #e69138; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><b>― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5255014.J_M_Barrie" style="text-decoration: none;">J.M. Barrie</a>, <i><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1358908" style="text-decoration: none;">Peter Pan</a></i></b></span></div>
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JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-33053080018442981332014-04-11T09:02:00.001-07:002014-04-15T05:36:58.521-07:00The 7 Cardinal Sins minus 1<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This creation leaves the trivial things in life like the general elections and an underperforming economy to the lesser mortals and talks about real pressing issues
faced by the mankind and that is courting girls to find a suitable match for Jay.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Acknowledgement</span></b><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">This piece is being presented with a fair knowledge that tomorrow a disgruntled employee, a spurned lover, the newspaper-wala whose monthly bill I didn't pay and the neighbor whose window panes I had broken while playing cricket 20 years ago, can use it against me. But I see the Glass - Half Full. So, I confess here with a hope for humanity and its tendency to forgive those who err.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:11:44 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> Hi</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:12:00 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Hi<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:17:51 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> howz
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:18:13 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Cool.. u?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:25:50 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> gud<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:26:41 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> n
work??<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:27:07 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Wo bhi theek hai .. How
was yo trip to Singapore?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:32:44 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b>
awesome...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:44:11 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> how
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:47:27 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Was gr8 ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:47:54 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> dis
was which 1 ....ur nth..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:48:50 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> 6th .. It took me sm
effort dis time but I managed ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:49:01 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> haha<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:49:03 PM: Xena The Warrior Princes:</b> omg..
6th in a row<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:49:16 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> did
she like u ? <o:p></o:p>dats imp..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:50:20 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> I think she wanted to say
so .. Her lips moved but her voice was nt audible ..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:50:31 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> And ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:50:30 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> hahaa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:50:33 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> omg<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:50:59 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> After u poison some1 it's
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:50:59 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> frm
whr on dis earth did you hunt her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:51:35 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> it
depends on wat type of poison....u r
inducin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:51:38 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> n on
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:53:18 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Oh! Don worry I know a bit bout poisons now after d exp of administering it 6 times..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:53:41 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> haha<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:53:52 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> dat i
knw how smart u r in administerin poison<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:55:24 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> after
all a 33 yr old guy will b an expert in it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:56:36 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Is it so .. ? But all good things come to an end :( ... N now I hv only 1 to go ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 4:58:42 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b>
freak...r u havin a swamybhar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:01:19 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Did u mean to type Swamy
Bar .. ? Tht will b nice ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:01:36 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> haha..
dat too wit ladies dancin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:02:18 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> If they are dancing there, they may not be "ladies".... :p.. I mean to stop at 7
.. Coz I hv heard its 7 Khoon maaf..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:02:44 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> after
dat u will b hanged ??? or ...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:04:31 PM: Jay The Old Hag:</b> Pata nahin .. may be. Also, aftr tht I
hv no reason to kill ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:04:48 PM: </b><b>Jay The Old Hag</b><b>:</b> Der r only 7 Cardinal sins
na ..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:05:07 PM: </b><b>Jay The Old Hag:</b><b> </b> So, may b they will hang me aftr tht ..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:08:31 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> haha<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:08:42 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> yaar
set ho ja.... bahut tp kar liya life main<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:10:12 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b>
official life set hai...ab personal kar le<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:11:07 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> i
will meet u for a round of chit chat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:12:13 PM: Jay T</b><b>he Old Hag</b><b>:</b> Life insurance hai na ..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>01/09/13 5:13:57 PM: Xena The Warrior Princess:</b> haha</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Epilogue:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dating Wrath, Greed, Gluttony, Pride, Envy, Lust and Sloth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>1. Wrath (Ira)</b> - She was all wrapped in a blood red sleeveless gown. Our love met a pitifully tragic end in the very first time we went out on a dinner date. Over dinner, we waited and weren't served for almost 20 minutes, Ira's anger boiled over. Firstly, she abused the manager long enough for him to have nightmares and then, she mocked me endlessly for being the spineless person I am. I think she may have questioned my manhood too. To marry her or not, was not the Q but survival of The Bengali Bhadralok was!!! It was not the poison that I used but Ira was done by her anger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>2. Gluttony (Gulabo)</b> – Not every woman biting that Mango is as enticing as Katrina Kaif (see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfB2mo5juOk" target="_blank">here</a>) even if her name is Gulabo. Some of them stuff themselves like a pig. I am a pig myself but I keep my gastronomic adventures to myself and my ways don't infringe someone else's peace. Gulabo, however, crossed all limits. When I thought the dinner was over, she ordered an extra soup and then, ate my ice cream too. It was the chocolate sauce I added on top of the ice-cream bowl, which was poisoned. I have never seen anyone lick one's death to such delight. Charles Schultz has once said, <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e69138;">“All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.”</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> I guess he was wrong.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>3. Greed (Avaritia)</b> - To call Avaritia just another girl would be grossly undermining her persona. I find one word that can capture enormity of her acumen - A Female Munimji. When the food bill was produced she asked for a 5 % discount because the tamarind was too tangy and another 5% because the Rasogolla was too sweet. The effort required to burn that extra calorie would mean an extra month on the treadmill in the Gym. So, someone needed to pay the fee. Avaritia's argument was just and so was mine (to kill her). Ten more customers in a day like that would result in the failure of entire food and restaurant business. I was dutifully bound to carry out God's work and save the industry.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">4. & 5. Pride and Envy (SuperVidia)</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> – SuperVidia was elegant and calm. In the conversation, she flew like a </span>cherepy bird from<span style="font-family: inherit;"> one topic to another describing how awesome she is. I soaked everything with her effervescent beauty till we started talking about our parents. She said her dad is humble, caring, rich, intelligent, USAIN BOLT, STEVE JOBS, BABA RAMDEV, ... (ok! she may not have said the last few but you get the drift..). By the time, Supervidia finished, I started to believe her Dad didn't require a woman as a partner to give birth to her. He is superhuman enough to have done it on his own (you know Mitosis). To be the daughter of someone so prolific was shining through Supervidia's face. Little else in the surrounding mattered to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Neighbours envy is your pride. By that corollary, the one beaming with pride is unknowingly causing envy somewhere else. So, the above lady who had pride on her nose, in her silky smooth hair, her billowing gown, her apple red cheeks - was guilty of causing envy too. Unwillingly, I killed her twice. Once, with the poison and then, I shot her too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>6. </b>Now, I imagine you must be waiting for the one I killed because of her lecherous nature .. for her lust..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Actually, I killed her because she said her name was Sunny Leone. Just like that or may be because I was bored of excessive social media jokes on her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">[About Sunny Leone - Did you guys watch The Virginity Hit, the movie that introduced me to Sunny Leone. If not for anything else, it is better than spending time in such blogs :P. The movie opens with the following epic lines -</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; text-align: left;">“I'm gonna </span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; text-align: left;">do to your virginity</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; text-align: left;"> what Alfred </span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; text-align: left;">Hitchcock did to birds</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; text-align: left;">.”</span></span>]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sloth - the 7th one .. wait for it!!</span></div>
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JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-38562003655190727522014-02-27T00:48:00.000-08:002014-04-13T22:52:31.151-07:00The Man Who Sold His Soul<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjvORYe9459ofy_IbgUyopWQeccVih82n2iBGpHMSLU3FQymKuokOBfbKqNlU39ipae6rlyKcSzRkCM_Cl_pPUNjV3RvBZXZ0nViy506n6s6HdsF6VR2FZOLYT3A03YZBDYO9-bYUC8Qr/s1600/Picture2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 8em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjvORYe9459ofy_IbgUyopWQeccVih82n2iBGpHMSLU3FQymKuokOBfbKqNlU39ipae6rlyKcSzRkCM_Cl_pPUNjV3RvBZXZ0nViy506n6s6HdsF6VR2FZOLYT3A03YZBDYO9-bYUC8Qr/s1600/Picture2.png" height="260" width="400" /></a></div>
<b>Illustrations: </b><i>From Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze sells his soul to the Devil to cure his Dad's cancer)</i><br />
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<b>Genre:</b> Semi-Fiction (Everything is..)</div>
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<b>Warning:</b> Leave your Sanity behind.</div>
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A couple of days back Namita (my mentor from Graphology Classes) thanked
me for encouraging her to write as she started to blog again. This is her comeback show - <a href="http://ngjoshi.blogspot.in/2014/02/masala-chai.html" target="_blank">Masala Chai..</a>!!!</div>
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<b>I only
texted back in whatsapp – Blog brethren missed you :).</b></div>
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I had a wide grin on my face, a
thousand times wider than the smiley that punctuated my response on whatsapp. She is part of a larger scheme of
things which she will realize when it will be too late for her to dig herself
out of the pit. It’s a Devil’s apprentice at work.</div>
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About a year back I met this guy who called himself - The Devil. That very moment I realised life disappoints you in many ways. This devil wasn't how I had imagined it to be like the one I saw in <a href="http://www.afaqs.com/news/story/24896_The-Devil-leaves-Onida-neighbours-green-eyed-no-more" target="_blank">Onida Ads <i>(Neighbour's Envy, Owner's Pride)</i></a>. He was a smooth talking guy in suit who loved to preach. “Talking” he
told me was what makes us human. <i>[I was trying to understand him but all I
could do that moment was to imagine my Babita Aunt as 20 times the human that I
am. If words were actually physical objects no one will have a room to move
when Babita Aunt is around. More about her later.] </i>Throughout his lengthy monologue, all The Devil asked me to do was to make people text/blog/write. Everyone should text or write and write so much that they stop talking to each other. To end the eloquent pitch, I agreed to sell my soul to the Devil and make this a non-communicating noiseless world.</div>
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For every soul claimed, I was
duly awarded – An Alto for a Car, Badminton fellow mates for this sports crazy
guy, a won’t-disturb-you-while-you-sleep maid, a nexus 7 to read e-books, a won't-bother-you-after-sex for a girlfriend (too much :P.. ok, ignore the last
one). A small man has small needs and even smaller desires (often even in his
dreams). I may put it here lightly but once upon a time, I was a nice guy too and crossing the line wasn't easy. Initially, I had to cope up with
shame and its first cousin despair. Slowly and steadily, I drowned all the
feelings of malice in Scotch. It no longer kills me to take away a bit of humanity
from every human’s life.</div>
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Despite history teaching us
otherwise we dwell in underestimating the power of alcohol. Those who haven't
tasted will never understand or agree that fine tasting single malt was all it
required to convince Nehru to agree to the partition (True Story!!). </div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">A small man has small needs and it’s
the Devil who understands it!!</span>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-22713831739475970612014-01-20T01:08:00.001-08:002014-02-27T23:57:42.418-08:00Worth Work-Shopping - II<div style="text-align: justify;">
As I mentioned in <a href="http://thejaywalk.blogspot.in/2013/03/worth-work-shopping.html" target="_blank">Worth Work-Shopping - 1</a>, Sudha keeps throwing few random lines and we are supposed to build on it. I am putting here a couple of seeds she planted in the 2nd session and my humble responses:</div>
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<b>1. "It was a rainy day when my parents came with a girl who was to be my sister..".</b></div>
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<i>Even though moist, this sugar cube was hard to cut into three small pieces. But hunger knows no boundary. So, I have been trying to scratch on the surface for last one hour. I want to give up now for the task seems enormous but my folks tell me being an "ant" was never meant to be easy.</i></div>
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<i>So, I look up to my mom for help but she is too busy feeding this newbie with small little grains. "She is not even truly red", I screamed within my head - "The one who is not blood red is not a true red ant".</i></div>
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<i>How to introduce her to my friends filled my mind. All my life - The Semi Red <b>Daunty</b>, The Light Red - <b>Monty</b>, and The Shiny Red - <b>Haunty</b> - have bowed before me. Now, I have to call this orange head my sister !!!</i></div>
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<i>"There is no justice in this world" - I thought, while I rolled my sugar cube towards DAD in the next 20 minutes. He was reading the weather report.</i></div>
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<i>"Ant kingdom is warned against flooding today" - screamed the headline, my Dad was immersed into.</i></div>
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<i>"Dad! I need help !!" I yelled.</i></div>
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<i>"So, did I" - yelled back his DAD in his rum soaked voice - "..when I was 3, and my 4th leg was not even 0.1mm - I would still devour a whole ball of sugar on my own".</i></div>
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<i>"No ant is a true ant who can't work for itself"..</i></div>
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<b>2. "She woke up with a start".</b></div>
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<i>She woke up with a start and a bad start it was. Alice was eating her pie under a tree, which was as huge as a ship. Black Colored pie was smeared all over her face. Yesterday, when she left her she was about 100 kgs and today she seemed to be 120 kgs (or so..). There was a small rose plant nearby her yesterday, but was gone today. What legend had to say, probably was true - Alice eats everything and every non-thing. </i><i>Saunter, the bard, had once complained that Alice ate his poems. The pantheon argued for 3 centuries as to how someone can eat a poem.</i></div>
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<i>She wanted to walk and see beyond the mammoth figure of Alice. But no one was allowed to pass The Gatekeeper unless they paid the price and fed her something. Alice wanted her dreams, but she was sure - not today. She had slept through the day at work looking forward to this dream and Alice will eat it up as a fee to let her cross - "Not Today", She pledged to herself.</i></div>
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<i>The Fairy maiden that lived beyond Alice must be waiting for her. Last night the fairy had shown her billowing dress and shiny hair. Today, She had to meet her and ask her to come out of the dream. So, Alice can eat all her dreams - but not today. She repeated that a thousand times in her head while she looked at the ignorant face of Alice, The Gatekeeper.</i></div>
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<i>[execuse for the need to edit -- with the time constraint one really doesn't get the time :P]</i></div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-22231140488765505502013-12-21T00:47:00.000-08:002014-02-27T23:58:29.253-08:00Metro (The Kolkata Subway) - Then and Now<br />
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<b style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Reposted from here : http://qr.ae/GcmH9</b></div>
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<b style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Life in a Metro (I know the Question was something different in Quora but when you say Metro to a Bengali - I assume you are talking about the Subway :) - Hence, suffer my answer</b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">Kolkata doesn't move or change a lot. So, have one experience in today's Metro - run backwards - add a few political events and you have the history reconstructed. </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">There are AC Metros today and the whole new stretch is not underground. This is because Didi happened, Kolkata became more crowded and funds are scarce.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">Now, imagine the Metro in 1900s - Metro Life used to alternate between a sudden flash of neon lights amidst the dark underground. There traveled the Bhadralok alongside others of his kind - skin to skin, sweat to sweat; beaming with pride of travelling in the 8th wonder of the world - The Underground Metro Station. "What India will do tomorrow, we do today !".</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">There weren't any smart cards and the new tokens to start with - so, it was a good old ticket. But some of those weight machines used to work. Folks would still make queues to get the tickets but not to get on to the train. Getting inside the train has always been a mad rush, an exceptional excitement and experience that underlines the high point in the daily life of a Bob Like Bengali.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">Once, inside Alokda used to debate in a high pitch with other Alokda as to why Gates in Park Street opening towards "LEFT" has political ramifications instead of any operational requirement. Somewhere, around the start of new Millenium and after 6 years of everyday Metro Ride, Alokda stopped caring about the Park Street LEFT alignment and his eyes would go "GREEN" when it would hit "Kalighat" Metro.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">Irrespective of your Political inclination or Paan-Chewing Rules, Stations were treated like a Holy place - they would keep it clean unlike the rest of Kolkata. Women were still treated with respect and men used to let go off their seats - if a lady is there standing. Unlike rest of India - there was no lustful intention involved. The action is due to the fear that commands a Bengali Man - A woman whether in the form of Wife, Mother or even the Goddess; all make him S#$t in his pants.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">Cafe Coffee Day is a modern day phenomenon and hence, you can rightly expect - there weren't as many kiosks as there are now. </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">Couples would still flock together and you could see a lot of school kids bunking their classes and getting down near Maidan, Parkstreet and Esplanade. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.90625px;">One disappointing fact is - though the numbers were less but the success rate used to be high - of Suicides/Accidents on the subway system. So, it kind of goes away from the very nature of things tending towards chaos and a Bengali's tendency to let it happen.</span></div>
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JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-38399605204174382192013-11-19T04:55:00.001-08:002014-02-27T23:58:50.026-08:00Blast from the Past - A Children's Day Special Story<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Prologue:</b> <i>This year Children's Day arrived equipped with frothy enthusiasm of whatsapp. A friend passed on a message to put my children's day pic as the profile pic. I didn't have any (I do wonder if camera was invented back then.. it was a long time ago). What I had was a story to share..</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFq6ptMRXy0sg9-2QUCCI8UodLD5BBJkKe8ZNzexpz0WC_4KA3xFrN5gMkQ8hheqdpUwQDdWeluJlT5RsOWGHLASF0GAvH2CpcWIN3cG23-yItj014ieTvwUuan9IwG5vhisaXMVtWqdQ/s1600/Wanda1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFq6ptMRXy0sg9-2QUCCI8UodLD5BBJkKe8ZNzexpz0WC_4KA3xFrN5gMkQ8hheqdpUwQDdWeluJlT5RsOWGHLASF0GAvH2CpcWIN3cG23-yItj014ieTvwUuan9IwG5vhisaXMVtWqdQ/s400/Wanda1.png" height="246" width="400" /></a></div>
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Once upon a time, there was a guy called Jay and a girl called Daisy. They would spend the entire day immersed in each others eyes. Daisy would find it a tad difficult because Jay had small <i>Chinki</i> eyes, but Jay would dive into hers with a big splash. The splash would make those big lakes to spill over and the tiny droplets shining under the sunlight would fly away.</div>
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During one of the cold Ranchi winters, the school annual day arrived. The school seniors had to participate in the group dance event and they all used to go to Sapna Miss's house after school for the practice. Sapna Miss was a teacher in Jay’s school. She was responsible for teaching, playing with the kids, completing their home works, organizing the cultural events, sports events, and so on... No wonder, the town folks used to refer it as Sapna Miss's School and not Children’s Paradise School. Among her lesser known facts was that she was a 20 something feline and I
had a secret desire to ask her to put my Tiffin box to flames with her sharp sexy eyes.</div>
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There was a small pond in front of her house. In that pond, there was a blue lotus which looked mystical amidst the red colored water surrounding it. The effervescent Wanda would cause a red tornado in the pond in excitement whenever Jay was there. Wanda was the fish that Jay talked to till Daisy arrived in the crime scene. There were too many girls inside the house and that would make Jay uncomfortable. Wanda was more hospitable and would never pinch Jay’s cheek unlike the cruel girls.</div>
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This one day, they all were practicing a group dance. Pairs of 8 boys and girls were dancing and about 30 other girls, 2 squirrels, and one little mouse were watching it. Jay was paired with Daisy :D. He was trying his best not to offend Daisy with any of his moves.<br />
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After 10 minutes into the dance, Sapna Miss screamed “Stop!!! .... Stop it everyone!!"</div>
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Sapna Miss came closer to Jay and said "Jay, what is wrong with you? Are you scared ?" Without waiting for his answer Sapna Miss continued, "Daisy! plz move away and let me show him the steps."</div>
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She dragged Daisy out and moved closer to Jay. She nodded her head and the music was restarted. Jay was speechless as usual.</div>
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Then, it happened…. Dude!!! It happened!! Sapna Miss took Jay’s arm and put it across her waist and pressed it tight.</div>
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“See... It’s not that difficult. Is it?” She <i><s>said </s></i>sang.<i><s><o:p></o:p></s></i></div>
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Inside Jay's stupid head, the drum beats had peaked and the music had reached a crescendo. In a flash, Jay was transported to a surreal world. Would you blame Jay for not remembering what happened next?</div>
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<b>Epilogue:</b> This was in Standard 3<sup>rd</sup> or 4<sup>th</sup>. The Dance Song we were practicing for was “Don’t touch, Touch me not.. Gagari Mohan Rasiya”.<br />
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<i>(Daisy - if you have actually read this.. I am just kidding :P. I still don't know swimming).</i></div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-75350475882318918852013-10-15T02:49:00.004-07:002014-02-27T23:59:23.150-08:00Adventures of Talking Ted and Walking Jay<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><u>Acknowledgement</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is shameless plagiarism.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">brought home a Talking Teddy after
watching Mark Wahlberg’s funny buddy in the cinematic version of a wild thought. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All you have to do is pray one
night and order it from <a href="http://flipkart.com/">Flipkart.com</a> in the morning. You can own your own Teddy </span><a href="http://www.flipkart.com/dimpy-stuff-teddy-bear-16-5-inch/p/itmdchzq2sevtttj?pid=STFDCHZMZ9NM2ZZY&otracker=from-search&srno=t_1&query=teddy+bear&ref=3a975cef-8aeb-4747-bddd-b02472aa2fc6" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><u>Prologue</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I am not sure how many of you would understand it, but living with a
stuffed toy is not half as bad as it sounds. A couple of not-so-great things may happen
though – My parents wonder what went wrong in the years they were to nurture me to
become a fine human being. The beautiful girl, I met a few months back may not
understand either. To be known as the girl of the 40
yrs old man with a Teddy in his closet, may not be the crown she always desired. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">T</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">he melodramatic turmoil that I went through to own my Teddy has also made my relatives stay away <strike>(Not entirely a bad thing though..)</strike></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Teddy was supposed to be the most
loving inanimate thing man has ever made. Then, how did it blossom to be such a bad
omen? If I had the time machine, I
would go back and undo some of the things that led to such a bad reputation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><u>Adventures of Talking Ted and Walking Jay: The Pinch Miracle in boardroom</u><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Ted is small and cute to look at. He has been living with me for an year
now. He spends most of his time watching TV, some porn, drinking beer and making fun of </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">neighbors</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When Ted first came home, I welcomed him with a smile and generous hospitality. A dry wash and new cloths would be nice I thought. I took
Ted to the nearby Reliance Mart Store. Ted whistled when a foxy lady passed by. Soon, a crowd seething with anger surrounded us. The mob threatened to
cut my balls and shove my Teddy up my Posterior. I stared at my posterior first
and then at God above. “This is not sweet of you !!” – I whispered for only HIS
ears. To placate the crowd - I slapped Ted. He brought out a scene of a small kid weeping off the shame, to life. This was enough to melt the victim's heart. Sheela <i>(yeah! that was her name)</i> asked me to stop the brutality and hugged the Teddy tight. I also paid for her groceries at Ted's request.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was no end to the story as I have no paucity of dumb acts.
One such high-point was when I stuffed him in my bag
and took him to my office. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“You keep me hidden in that bag
is embarrassing enough; at least, have the graciousness to not make me lie there with your laptop. A few magazines would be nice for comfy. You know the
ones I saw in the magazine store. It has that bomb of a centerfold…with those
huge jugs.. and pink colored…ummm” That adhesive tape drowned his whining for
the rest of the drive, but his spirit stayed afloat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Later, in the day we had a sales
review. This was chaired by my Boss, fondly known as Goldmine The Croc. Goldmine is a bald man with pointy hair on the sides. He is a sweet person when he is fast asleep otherwise....well (chuck it, else, you will call me a whining b***h). In the review meet, whenever Goldmine asked me a Question too silly to Answer, Ted giggled in the meeting room. Everyone</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> stared at Fat Joe. <i>Fat
Joe is considered the architect of all phenomenon without explanation in and
around my office - be it the fart in the crowded lift or lewd messages sent to
Goldmine’s wife from an office number.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Why didn’t you achieve your sales
target?” – Goldmine The Croc would ask and his fist would come
crashing on the table like a war hammer. While everyone would stare at me for
an Answer, I would first ponder whether </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">its Century Ply or the</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Fevicol which makes the table so
tough. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not able to comprehend whether the
Question is a rhetorical one or not, my measured response after a minute would be to shrug and ignore.
Every month we replay the act like puppets. I guess it’s sort of a ritual now
between The Walking Jay and Goldmine The Croc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Probably, these subtleties of
human nature are beyond a Teddy’s understanding. That is why an offended Ted,
pinched Goldmine’s rear on that Holy Day. <i>(I am sure Ted’s followers after 50 years from now, would celebrate this day as “Pinchaya-Dasami”)</i>. Goldmine screamed so loud that,
three glasses in the adjacent building cracked. Panic stricken junta called in the Anti-Terrorist
Unit to investigate. A spicy news in TIMES NOW followed. But that’s a tale for
some other post. Meanwhile, the Pinch miracle claimed its fruit. Fat Joe was sacrificed at the altar to please the Gods of the boardroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Not able to control my anger that
evening, I shoved Ted into the cupboard. I had that mixed
feeling of guilt and righteousness that Harbhajan Singh would have had when he
slapped Shreesanth. It was a necessary evil and someone had to do. Ted needed
the punishment. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, the supper-less night in the dark dungeons of the Cupboard and a fervent love making with the resident cockroaches couldn't</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> break his defiance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Next morning, after releasing Ted from his
prison, I asked – “Why couldn’t you let Goldmine's comment pass without a
reaction?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Crimes of
annoyance shouldn't go unpunished. If they do, it begets a society full of Paris Hiltons, Digvijay Singhs and Rakhi Sawant." After a pause, Ted continued, "</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was born in Blood.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am not myself unless
I have taken the life of the ones who fit my code of vengeance. You are in with
luck that your annoying Boss did fit. If only you would have called me Dexter instead
of Ted – my purpose in life would have been complete.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Stop Watching TV at home.. and
you are no glorified serial killer!!! You have no life, you are just a talking
stuffed Toy!!!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I stared at his Furry Face with the round nose; without knowing the emotions, my angry retort would elicit in the
Teddy. </span></div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-37962612450855732452013-07-09T12:29:00.001-07:002014-02-28T00:01:02.879-08:00I Phone: I and the Game of Phones<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify;">
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<br />
<i><b>Reference - Page 69,<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Game_of_Thrones" target="_blank"> A Game of thrones, A song of Ice and Fire - by R.R. Martin</a></b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b>Intro: </b></i><br />
<i>Jay Stark has just taken the responsibilities for the Hand of the King in Westeros; which is like being Deputy to the King. A tired, irritable and hungry Jay has been summoned to attend an urgent meeting of the small council.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Littlefinger = Master of the coin = Finance Minister</i><br />
<i>Varys = <span style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px; text-align: start;">Master of Whisperers = Head of Intelligence</span></i><br />
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<b>J<i>ay Stark :</i></b><i> I don’t think I should get such a costly device to communicate. This is an ext</i><i>ravagance that the realm can ill afford.</i><br />
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<i><b>Littlefinger </b>: Master of the coin finds the money. The king and the Hand spend it.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><b>Jay Stark :</b> I will not be a party to such an extravagance.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><b>Littlefinger :</b> His grace thinks a royal device is what the Hand of the King should carry. Every embellishment will add to the aura, which will bring respect. Respect and authority is what you need to take the kingdom from a 5.5 growth rate to 9.</i></div>
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<i><b>Jay Stark :</b> Authority and respect comes from the genuine interest to do good for the Kingdom. No amount of gold, for that matter Apple products can add any luster to the personality of the Hand.</i></div>
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Jay Stark contemplated for a moment in his thoughts - how happy was he with his Samsung Guru when he was in the North. The Gadget was still probably the cheapest gadget in the North but communication was pure and without any guile.His expressionless face stared at Littlefinger for explanations.</div>
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<i><b>Littlefinger </b>: You would anyways need a device to communicate with the King for he rarely comes out of his harem. Apologies but we have already sinned and bought I Phone 5 for you without your permission. Please, accept this welcome Gift.</i></div>
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<i><b>Jay Stark</b> retorted: Why I phone 5 and not something else, what about I phone 4 or Samsung Galaxy…? I Phone 5 will cost us 20 Gold Coins more.</i></div>
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<i><b>Littlefinger </b>: Because I Phone 5 is sleeker, thinner and lighter.</i></div>
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<i><b>Jay Stark :</b> This one doesn't look thin or light.</i></div>
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<i><b>Littlefinger </b>:</i><i> That is because we have put it in a cover that will protect the Phone. It is more delicate than a sixteen year old virgin's hymen.</i></div>
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<i><b>Jay Stark </b>frowned <b>:</b> So, remind me why did we buy this since, it is not thin anymore and I have to open the case and show it to everyone for them to realize I carry an I Phone.</i></div>
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<i><b>Littlefinger </b>:</i><i> Our Lord is truly honorable and bereft of the intention to play in the misty maze of the Westeros. Perhaps Lord Varys can explain the technological detail as I am only the master of coin and I follow the orders.</i></div>
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<i><b>Varys :</b> My Lord! How it amuses me that it’s the matter of only intellect that an eunuch is called into the service for all other body parts are considered useless save his brain.</i><br />
<br />
Varys flashes a cunning smile towards Littlefinger and continues - <i>Coming back to the matter of our immediate attention – I Phone is a product which originated beyond the walls and like the whitewalkers, its life is beyond the body it is confined to."</i></div>
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<i><b>Littlefinger </b>: Lord Varys! Apologies for interrupting but could you speak in the language of the commons. (Eunuch! That's how I pay my debts - word for word, insult for an insult)</i></div>
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<i><b>Varys :</b> What I meant was, I Phone brings about a lot of interest particularly in the Ladies of the castle. This is probably an unnecessary information but even the Hound was being gazed upon by the vixens while he was carrying the device to you.</i></div>
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<i><b>Jay Stark :</b> That could have been of help, while I was still young and had not been to any war. But now that I am old and devoted to my Lady, who would I want to impress?</i></div>
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Jay Stark stared to the sky for a while and smiled at God's Irony. No young or teeny one can afford the I Phone when they need it the most and the one’s who can afford it, have no need for it. He was still shaking his head when he was interrupted by the stealth voice of Lord Varys - <i>A man is never too old to Brandish his liking for any kitten on the block. Even the likes of you can feast on any damsel in the kingdom. But since, you are not interested the only other thing I can talk about is the magnificent environment of I Cloud, I Tunes, I Message it brings.”</i></div>
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<b>Jay Stark :</b> <i>All these that you mentioned begin with "I" and why do I wonder that the "I" represents over indulgence in self. Do you think the Freecities in the realm and beyond, which use the Google products do not have something to Message, to listen to music and space to store?</i></div>
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<b>Lord Varys :</b> <i>My Lord! there is a reason why one man rules over others and that is, they don’t know that everything in the rulers' disposal is only the glossed over version of everything they have. If, they knew the holy truth they will be peers and no man accepts to be ruled by a peer. For he who was made by the Almighty suffers from Jealousy and resents to be ruled by anyone but the throne. Thus, the Rules of the Game were made and thus the game of phones had begun.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Jay Stark snatched the phone from Little finger in disgust and walked out of the iron door without saying any word. The entire council could see the half bitten apple logo signing from far away even as the Hand slowly disappeared from the vision.</i></div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-19623547087623129622013-05-18T21:56:00.006-07:002014-02-28T00:01:47.831-08:00And then there was a Google Nexus... (A socio-tech review)<br />
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<i>Disclaimer - Those who actually believe, I will enlighten them about the features of the device.. The world is infested with better geeks!! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Nexus 7 is awesome, handy and
apt - if reading was the purpose you chased before acquiring this 7 inch device. It will easily fit into your back pocket if you are Khali (<i>read</i> an enormous sloth in WWE) . If you are a lady and you love
wearing a polka dot sleeveless dress; you would still look lovely when you have
that nexus in your hand instead of your clutches. Nexus is a winner.</div>
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The comfort that the device
provides has affected another ritual. I have stopped carrying the news paper to
the washroom and instead the lovemaking in the bathtub is with the 7 incher!!!.
<i>(I meant the browsing on the Nexus u
pervert!</i>) Actually, water might be detrimental to its health and I trust
you won’t do it unless someone asked you to do so in WHO DARES WINS. There are
already two affordable dents in my tab so that’s as much I take care of it (<i>I was not doing any drop test for the review
- FYI</i>). This brings me to another USP of Nexus, its price point. Google
subsidizes the awesome device so that, it can win the bigger war of OS and applications
when compared to the Apples and Microsofts of the world. Total Cost = $250 for 32 GB.</div>
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That’s about as much I can talk
about the tab features, owning a Nexus is actually a lesson in philosophy and
human behavior. The latest Jelly Bean OS and the Play Store are just frills. </div>
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Nexus is called nexus because it is
a nexus between the Gods/Lords and certain techies in this world to spoil the
likes of me further. Not that spoiling me is a gargantuan task and on a scale
of toughness it will be next to adding 2 + 2 and arriving at 4. Nevertheless,
among the Luxury items that I owned after becoming a Punaikar - it is the most
revered one. You can read about the other two in my earlier published tomes...
A) The Induction Heater and The Joy of Cooking (you can buy it from<i> Flipkart @ 20% off</i>) ; and B) Alto – The car and the
social curse (Published in the October addition of <i>Auto</i> - the mag).</div>
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While the induction heater helped
Jaybert rise from the dungeons in the <b>Maslow’s hierarchy of needs</b>; The car taught me the social relevance of an automotive at another level. “Do you have a car?” is a cruel
Question and probably the only Question crueler than that is “Which car do you
own?”. The quizmaster is not interested in the correct answer but with that
he/she will classify you into the social strata. This is how the modern day <i>varna</i> system works in India. I have
essentially adored my car till now. Every scratch is a proud mark presenting
the triumphant return from the battlefield of Pune traffic. But the infallible
has fallen and I might change the car. </div>
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Nexus on the other hand had an
opposite impact on people. I could feel with various reactions which makes me realise that I am transforming
from being a not so touchable retard to an uber cool figure. I don’t hate any
bit of it.</div>
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Bottomline - Don't wait for the India launch just ask one of your buddies to get it from US!<br />
<br />
While you go and buy Nexus, I need to get my commission from Google :) </div>
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JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-85039304386074458142013-05-12T11:17:00.004-07:002013-05-13T09:18:48.582-07:00Doppelganger in Pune Part I<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>About 10 years ago a good old friend of mine encouraged me, "I will give you a penny for every word you write.. ". I was amused for the fact that if it had an iota of truth, I could become a millionaire without committing a crime. A few days back, we caught up again and he playfully mentioned he spends more money on my son than on me. .... It tickled my business acumen and I thought I should go back to writing. So, all the souls to suffer now .. need to know its not my fault but its Greed and Greed is Good :). </i></div>
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<br />
<b>Genre:</b> Fiction or Semi fiction (what do you think...?)<br />
<b>Rated:</b> 2.5<br />
<b>Starred:</b> A docile bong, A hot Tamil girl, Ajay - the oracle .. so on.. I am tired .. will put everything else in the 2nd part.<br />
<b>Controversy: </b>The Censor board had this piece stopped for an year (I drafted this post last year). The bubble bath portion was supposed to be edited out. They claimed the blogger takes the whole issue of crimes against women so lightly.<br />
<br />
He doesn't.<br />
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There was this clarion call by my Landord's son, Ajay, that the secretary of the society wanted to see me along with our neighbor. There was some dispute and that they were sort of not-so-much-in-love with what I had done. Ajay is the most street smart guy
I have dealt with in the entire Marathaland till now. He advised me when they asked me where I was from, I needed to say Bihar and not Bengal.
When I inquired about the reason, he explained the philosophy, "when there is a doubt in the crime committed, the doubt is dispelled when the perpetrator is a Bihari. But,
when there is a crime for everyone to be seen, presenting yourself as a docile Bong will invite a few uninhibited slaps. On the other hand, if you are a Bihari, you may witness the opponents adopting a few Gandhian principles to tame the perpetrator."<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A mini Panchayat resides
in every apartment these days. A person with most time in his kitty becomes
the head honcho and starts running his own small fiefdom. If ever you
thought time can be used as a tradable penny to wrest power and governance then, this is how it is done. At the beginning of the proceedings the secretary threw the accusations and that was teasing the neighbor's 20 yr old daughter. There was a firm belief among all the Tamilians in my society that she is the most beautiful girl from the state after Hema Malini. Hence, a man without a wife (myself) must be at a fault of teasing her if it is claimed. How I wish I could explain the logical fallacy to the crowd.<br />
<br />
While the secretary was calmly conducting the proceedings, my Tamilian neighbor was fluttering his
wings like I had seen in one of those South Indian movies. Every time he would drive down a point, he would move his hands in sharp and swift
actions. He would take his small silk towel from the shoulder, kill
the mosquitoes in front of me and put it back to rest on his shoulder - almost like the sword in the hands of a crafty Knight. the sound of his hands tear through the still and harmless air echoed in my head. But the zip zip sound that I could hear was definitely his 8 year old son
hiding behind his mom's enormous posterior. He must have believed a good background score is key to a climactic showdown.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
While Anna was screaming down my throat, I could still hear myself
whisper. "look at that girl, would she give me a bubble bath?" If thoughts were of criminal intent and mere thoughts justify persecution - I should have died a 1000 deaths by now. In this case though, there were 10 witnesses to my heinous act of teasing the girl. Each one of them eloquently presented their version. Revenge for any misdeed against any female seemed to be in the air.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
However, I
was so delighted to see the animated drama unfurl before me that I don't
recall what all concessions did I accept to settle the dispute. It was only the next day, when I received a call from my landlord, that I realized I had to leave the place within next 10 days according to our discussions.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
The
urge to understand who was behind the motive to get me thrown out of
the place had overtaken me.. Later, I checked the time when this apocalyptic event had happened. It was on a weekday at 6 in the evening. I was pretty sure I was in the office. I did tell Ajay about this - however, he said - "Uncle, I would have believed whatever you said if, I would not have witnessed that".<br />
<br />
Teasing a girl requires effort and courage - now both these attributes are much in demand in the east. All Bongs may look similar but I did need to dig this further, there surely is something that I was missing..<br />
<br />
(to be continued..).</div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-1674021843781518202013-03-31T06:27:00.001-07:002014-02-27T23:59:48.300-08:00Worth Work-Shopping..!! <div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4465513.Sudha_Menon">Sudha Menon</a></b> is a successful writer. She has authored the book <b>Leading Ladies - Who Inspire India</b>.She organized this Writing Workshop a couple of months ago in the city. I don't know how on earth I drove to that place on a Sunday morning... Anyways, yours truly was there.. </div>
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When the session started, she asked us to write whatever comes to our mind but it should start with "I remember..". When we finished she asked us to read it. No words are enough to praise the kind of stuff some kids had written (It was like they were conveying ... "Hello! uncle you are just about 100 years late to attend this class."). Anyways, this braveheart also raised his hand and read what he had conjured up in the 10 minutes..</div>
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<i>I remember how the last time I was in such a room full of students, I wanted to move out and have fun. How I wanted to go back and sleep in my dorm room. It seems different today. Probably, there are two reasons - one and the more obvious one is that I shelled out 1800 bucks to attend it and the other reason being may be and just may be I wanted to attend it. Yes, Its different.</i></div>
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<i>What puts me to comfort is the common thread - I was and still am a Back-Bencher. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I would like to remember more of the </i><i>Back-Bencher</i><i> but too bad that there aren't enough memories because most of the time I was sleeping.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Sleep - ummm.. that's a love affair I do remember. I remember how I used to have lots of time to embrace you. Everything has changed now. I don't get the time to sleep. I discuss you proudly with my friends as if she is the first beautiful girlfriend I ever had.</i></div>
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I think this is becoming from acceptable to weird. I probably should try and remember something else. </div>
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I do remember something else.</div>
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<i>I do remember when all this corporate rush started and I had first quit writing poems; then, I had quit the idea of writing a book and decided to settle for the low hanging fruit - The Blog. I do remember when the first blog I published, my close friends laughed at me. However, I continued writing. Much hasn't changed since then. They still laugh . I do remember the reason I didn't get discouraged and stop. I laughed back at them - thinking of their ignorance. </i></div>
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<i>Yes, nothing has changed much now because I still laugh at them and their ignorance. </i></div>
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..By the time I finished reading this, I had tears in my eyes and people were clapping.. you know the scene after the FAT LADY finishes her performance. A girl with the most beautiful pout kissed me. (Okay.. u got me .. this entire part is a lie :P).</div>
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..As they say rest is history.. for the remainder of the session I was a bit of a pain in the A@@ for the whole class...my classmates in this work shop would remember me for that.</div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-33432077071410807532011-10-16T09:53:00.000-07:002013-08-26T04:26:34.800-07:00The 101st Kolkatian and The Reverse Metamorphosis<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(This is the work of Dr. Jay. Dr. Jay was awarded the Nobel Prize for his work on reverse metamorphosis and the periodical “The Jaywalk” which first published his work has now become the fifth most revered literature after Ramayana, Mahabharatha, Geetha and Kamasutra in India)</i></div>
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<i>Kolkatian – read as a Dalmatian or an Alsatian. It is a strange species which looks like a homo sapiens but can fly. It has spots all over the body and has a tail like a Dalmatian. It is registered as an endangered species with the WWF. Dr. Jay's work involved observations made on the 101st Kolkatian.</i></div>
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This was 2 B. G. (i.e. Before Ganguly – The Bengali Calendar is divided into the era Before Sourav Ganguly’s retirement and After Sourav Ganguly’s retirement from International cricket), when our hero arrived at this city called Kolkata which was once the British Capital. The Kolkatian was a free spirited Butterfly. He took to the city like the fish takes to the water. The City’s grip was more passionate than that of a lover. It was all wonderful. He was all for the City and the City was his. However, soon The City of Joy clipped his wings and he stopped flying away. Gone were any vacation trips to Goa, Mumbai, Delhi or Bangy. He would hang-out at a popular <b>Camac Street</b> joint or stroll down the roads of Park Street chatting with the pimps. <i>Someone had rolled the dice and triggered a biological phenomenon.</i></div>
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It was not long when chemical changes in his body, left the Kolkatian a crawling caterpillar. It was all Home to Office and Office to Home. The high-point of the day would be the <b>Kusum Roll</b> near a Metro Station while going back to home. Amidst this burn, he was becoming more perceptive and would observe the nature carefully. Probably, his intellectual horizon was expanding. He appreciated little joys that the city would provide him. Some intellectuals at his office said this was what being a classical Babumosai meant and he should enjoy till it lasted… and he did:</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He observed the love between The Pan Chewing Spouse and the Blouse fixing Boudi (Bhabhi - sister in Law)… An 82+ Daadu (grandpa) would Hi- Fi in joy as for the 2000<sup>th</sup> time he had chased a speeding Tram and got on to it… and then there were kids.. ummmmm.. No! Kids were like everywhere else, annoying our Kolkatian for not leaving the Air-hockey or The Shooting game that he wanted to play in the TimeZone at South City Mall.</i></div>
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Oh! The affair and bond grew stronger every passing day. The Lackadaisical Kolkatian soon wouldn’t like more than 8 hours a day of work and go straight to home after work to sleep. The day was not far when the weekends meant by the home, for the home and in the home. The only way to hear the Kolkatian was to chat online or message him over phone. The script was just unfolding. This was 2 A. G. the entire locality where our hero stayed, started having problems with the cellphone services. Legends say, it was a poor frustrated local CPM supporter who caused this. He was still sulking in the election defeat when one night he was beaten badly by his wife. She had been demanding the new android touch phone and he couldn’t buy one. They say she used an abusive language never heard of in decent/indecent Bengali before and a swinging broom that did all the damage. Out of anger and frustration, he burnt down all the local mobile towers disrupting the connectivity for months. This event made the news in Sananda TV, TARA TV, Star Jalsa, Kolkata 24, The Statesman and The Telegraph… What was not heard or noticed was about the Kolkatian, the protagonist of this epic story who was now virtually isolated. He wouldn't get up from the bed and no one could contact him…. The Kolkatian was safe and sleeping in his cocoon… He would dream of a world of wealth, happiness and equality; where children would be playing around the statues of Karl Marx and Jyoti Basu. </div>
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The Intellectual Evolution and the Reverse Metamorphosis were complete. </div>
JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-54332031930835121352011-09-11T11:58:00.000-07:002011-09-11T21:28:32.866-07:00Other Things We do Besides cutting Credit Ratings of the Yanks..<div style="text-align: justify;">We, as a sect/a herd/a community, don't really care to be on top or be in the limelight and generally take the easy way out. Hence, what Sharmaji from the friendly neighborhood did was surprising. Putting a butt-plug in an otherwise constipated US administration isn't every day what a BIT, MESRA alumnus or a Jharkhandi would do. The day, US was downgraded by S&P, my phone buzzed with a few friends messaging, "Atta Boy! <a href="http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-08-10/india-business/29871627_1_deven-sharma-facebook-page-dhanbad">Deven Sharma</a>, the chief at S&P is a Mesra Guy.. and a Jharkhandi". It was a shock and awe treatment to bring us out of oblivion.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Deven Sharma is the 2nd Mesra guy who has been making the noise. There is another Mesra guy called <a href="http://www.karanbajaj.com/">Karan Bajaj</a> who has appeared on the scene. He has written two bestsellers "keep off the grass" and "Johnny Gone Down". The books are pure Masala Matinees - a nerd and a genius is pretty much center of the story. The protagonist is into difficult situations and he comes out triumphant. Yeah! beautiful chicks offer him easy sex. There are references to so many run of the mill popular porn stars we all can relate to. Quintessential MESRA. There are a few skills you learn in Mesra - that no other college teaches.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8d4Qbz_AjU70x_MG_Vls_SIQ-hZvz6umMgZ5qZRkOnerYeeFu7ZeIYn4a3tsRUPmcF-SUkkotcUgUePKQiA7-Vq-DaOrR9Eiv_oB2NgUOW0MO2D0ncCI4NX4dSUgNhUCX3QdnKaNC4sLO/s1600/MESRApic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8d4Qbz_AjU70x_MG_Vls_SIQ-hZvz6umMgZ5qZRkOnerYeeFu7ZeIYn4a3tsRUPmcF-SUkkotcUgUePKQiA7-Vq-DaOrR9Eiv_oB2NgUOW0MO2D0ncCI4NX4dSUgNhUCX3QdnKaNC4sLO/s400/MESRApic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(This is the only picturesque place in Mesra)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mesra otherwise keeps it to itself. Never revered the way IITs are the world over. Even the 2nd spot is peacefully taken by NITs. BIT, MESRA - a poor cousin of still vibrant BITS Pilani; has over the years been a story of steady decline. No Indian kid just out of his puberty, dreams of getting into this institution. Nor does it gives orgasmic pleasure to the parents, when their kid is through to the college. Yet, it gives easy and decent paying jobs for knowing nothing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Like any other college, It also gets its share of sex starved teenagers, some of them geeky nerds but mostly average kids with myriad backgrounds. We had rich kids, poor kids.. smart kids.. non kids, males and a few non-males. We had a lobby known as <i>The Mantri Lobby</i> - dedicated to the sons and grandsons of ministers. Some of them were more mercurial than Appam (Sreesanth) and others, were more sedate than our Sardarji (Mr. Man-Mohan). We never produced too many CAT crackers or CEOs. Actually, I don't know if there are a few champions out there as we don't have a strong alum network. Life after College for a MESRA guy is exactly the way It was in the college... who gives a F to the world.. easy work, easy life, easy death. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yesterday, a bunch of us met here in Kolkata.We shared umpteen Mesra Gossips. Manish Sonkar told us his favorite Mesra story -</div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">In the 2nd yr, I had to take a break for 2 months because of an illness. I came back to the college, and it was exam time. I was looking for the notes, I had given to one of my friends. He informed me that it was with a certain Gautam Bhai. One day after Dinner; near the washroom, I saw Gautaumji and asked, "Gautaumji! can you give me the notes." Gautaumji, stared at me and said,"Maine aapko toka kya? fir aapne mujhe kyun toka?" (Did I ever disturb you? Then, y did you disturb me." "Gautamji, I was just asking for my notes, You know exam time.." "Aapne mujhe fir toka" (you poked me again).. Peacefully, I walked away thinking "whokey! .. no notes. lol! but what the fuk is wrong with the guy." Next day there was a buzz in the gossip circles. People were asking me.. why did I take panga with Gautaumji? And I was like ".. wtf, It was just notes, okey! I will write everything afresh. Big Deal.." and Big Deal it was.</blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Next day, a truck load of Tribals were waiting outside the gate to bash the notorious guy who was irritating Gautamji. Somehow a senior stepped in and advised me not to venture out. As soon as I got a breather, I was back home for another 2 months.. till things cooled off in the campus."</blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Within 2 years, Manish moved to New Zealand where he completed an integrated course in Engineering. Now, he is something that he describes as a serial entrepreneur and has been associated with a lot of start-ups.</div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-79548900314723762992011-01-30T09:23:00.000-08:002011-01-30T09:28:27.135-08:00Goldman Se Dhobi Ghat Tak<div style="text-align: justify;">I did come across a few I-Banker chicks. We did sleep together <i>(in the same class.. same lecture... in </i><i>adjacent but </i><i>separate seats);</i> however, the intimacy didn't precipitate their propensity to like a washer-man. In the hindsight, that may be because I am an ignorant Bastard. I think I did notice a few things though. They were suave and they won't shy away if you discussed sex positions; which was nice - they weren't the prettiest and they would wear short skirts only during placements; which wasn't so nice. They would be game for vodka shots in one of those crazy nites, which was nice; but they will remain sober; which wasn't so nice (I mean if you pay for a girl's drink, you do want her drunk.. right!). I think one of these days, there may be one of those quick off the shelf <i>desi</i> books, from one of those B School campuses, which may picture them in a delightful canvas. I will wait for the tomes to learn more about them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Right Now! I need to write a letter to a friend who thinks wearing specs make you a nerd and an intellectual.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSaR_kyPtDgxLSTSvsCEz_8ZOv3Kb6MTyz1ZIUX7heqPKZbEUiG-Zq9B_CF3RRGvDBQwNwx7QGVMVigKbLcXV1_Wj5C2kBnLb6FV05yp2pQcfHAUe0urwDqWWMYrDar-nRILdWDzLQX9u/s1600/Kiran-Rao-Unveils-Dhobi-Ghat-First-Look-1-560x839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSaR_kyPtDgxLSTSvsCEz_8ZOv3Kb6MTyz1ZIUX7heqPKZbEUiG-Zq9B_CF3RRGvDBQwNwx7QGVMVigKbLcXV1_Wj5C2kBnLb6FV05yp2pQcfHAUe0urwDqWWMYrDar-nRILdWDzLQX9u/s640/Kiran-Rao-Unveils-Dhobi-Ghat-First-Look-1-560x839.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dear Kiran,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am one of those guys who have just burnt their money in a Theater watching your movie. This is a plea to return all the money because I have a loan to repay and I am no <a href="http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2043575_2043788_2043569,00.html">Pablo Escobar</a> (the infamous gangster who burned 2 million dollars to just to keep his daughter warm in winters). Also, because I am shallow.... very shallow.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Trust me without meaning disrespect to anyone; a dhobi having a chance of some action with an IBanker chick, is very low if not impossible. I am forwarding your phone number to my Dhobi. I am sure you would be delighted to meet this hunk from Darbhanga. (Since, you believe he has a real shot at an I Banker - from now on, I will call him Goldman). Goldman bangs my door at odd hours. He assumes something called privacy doesn't exist. Like a true IBanker, Goldman is very focused. The unassuming man charges inside the home the moment we answer the doorbell, to find wherever there is a cloth. One of these days, Goldman may pull cloths off my body. I hope you won't mind all these because he means no ill will. Infact, he really is close to his customers. If we give our clothes to some other dhobi - he will crib and cry till we pull him back in the ring. He is by far the most competitive guy in Kolkata. At 55, Goldman still is a hunk. I suggest you give him a 500 bucks <i>ka note</i> for every delivery. This will make him search for that <i>"khulla"</i> tugged somewhere in his dhoti. While he struggles with the tight knot around his waist, you will have a view of his grey hair on his naked thighs. He may not be a competition to Pratiek, but surely it will tickle your libido. You may want to get your camera, click some photographs and later add to your compilation of <b>"The Real India"</b>. I would also request you to offer him some rum instead of coffee. Oh! don't get me wrong, he needs the rum because it keeps him warm at night (there is no room heater in the garage he lives in) and helps Goldman forget all the abuses that snobbish people like me throw at him. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Also! He charges 3 bucks per cloth that he will press. So, that's a deal! I get 4 clothes pressed free every month. I have also promised him a video ad, which will give him great publicity. I will read this blog to him. That would help him believe my story. That's also, because my friends find this blog incomprehensible - So, I guess I am desperate for some audience. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">With Love,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jay</div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-17449228654628331182011-01-12T09:50:00.000-08:002011-01-13T09:43:58.648-08:00Pulp! Fiction: Shalom to Slam on<div style="color: #cc0000; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3Modsx-b22zvK3JJPBY7J8tBKGYY8Ks58tKSfOqV_AkK23okS6SlN-HQZgg4qn2yczOHTnOFb7-37b23Pv001TixbsZCXDFazqBtXlENiRnyTVMrgFD-S1mtqwgxTY7Hk7hkOSe9SoQQ/s1600/pulp-fiction-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji3Modsx-b22zvK3JJPBY7J8tBKGYY8Ks58tKSfOqV_AkK23okS6SlN-HQZgg4qn2yczOHTnOFb7-37b23Pv001TixbsZCXDFazqBtXlENiRnyTVMrgFD-S1mtqwgxTY7Hk7hkOSe9SoQQ/s400/pulp-fiction-poster.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><br />
<i><span style="color: black;">[watching <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulp_Fiction">Pulp Fiction</a> would help you connect and puke at the farce which follows.]</span> </i><br />
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<b>Prologue</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was packing to leave for Kolkata, the smell of Marijuana was yet to dissipate in the hut. A new day of immorality had begun while the ashes from the wrong deeds of last nite hadn't quite settled. I hopped across the ruins with my luggage in the hall. There was Mobydick lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Two immaculate signature skull signs on his face suggested, this was the work of the deadly duo <b>Vincent <i>Tiru</i> Vega</b> and <b>Donnie Danko <i>(Ram)</i>.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000; text-align: justify;"><b>Prelude to the Battle of Musicals</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">All the warlords had gathered in that Delhi winter to attend STDs wedding. STD introduced us to a lot of tribes and their warriors. One of them, was his close aide and confidant, <b>Mobydick</b>. <i>Pyaar se</i> they called him Mahalingum. (Legend had Mobydick wielded his "tool" like Lord's weapon to kill giant mosquitoes. Today, folks may not appreciate the selfless work done by Mobydick, but a mythical hero of the 40s India couldn't have been different - Mobydick : the super crusader against Diarrhoea and Malaria). </div><div style="text-align: justify;">The guests were treated lavishly with booze and binge at Shalom. The South Delhi lounge bar couldn't quite satisfy the herd and they decided to take the party to the underground bastion of STD. All the wild cats gathered around fire to sing, dance, booze and smoke weed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000; text-align: justify;"><b>The battle of Musicals</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mobydick had repeated for the nth time in his pumpkin intrepid English, "Guys! you don't listen to Pink Floyd!! What is wrong with ya all?." The rum soaked voice went on to ridicule our musical taste. Donnie Danko ignored him for the nth time. As his fingers slipped over the face of his new android HTC and played songs after songs, Mobydick was getting offended more and more.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Vincent Tiru Vega would often dispel the growing tension in the room by playing songs that would melt any hostility. His cheap booty-shaking Bollywood numbers would cut across even the divine differences of "the geeks" and "the freaks", "the chicks" and "the dicks", "the laid" and "yet to be laid". Hence, Vincent Vega received a meek approval from the opponents. If there was a battle of musicals to go into the annals of fable, this was one. Mobydick forcing <i>Eddie Vedder</i> down Medha's ears, Medha Wallace pleading Bhooke to play <i>Eddie Vedder</i>, Bhooke playing <i>Wolfmother</i> for Donnie Danko, Donnie Danko playing <i>Iron Maiden</i> for Vincent Vega and Vincent Vega playing <i>Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast</i>. It was a <b>Mexican Standoff</b>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">After Eddie Vedder's song was taken to immortality by Mobydick, Medha Wallace realized, the umpteen Mojitos weren't enough to make her go through with that excruciating pain. She quietly moved out of the scene.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I left the scene, the battlefield had three last men sitting: Donnie <i>HTC</i> Danko, Vincent <i>Blackberry</i> Vega and Moby <i>IPhone</i> Dick. A passing glimpse showed me a glint in Danko's eyes, smile in Vega's face and fear in Mobydicks soul. While, I was shutting the door of my room, I heard Mobydick sing "daughter". After a minute I heard, "thud! thud!". An eerie silence followed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000; text-align: justify;"><b>Epilogue</b><br />
<span style="color: black;">As soon as the flight landed in Kolkata, Bhooke received a twitter update on his phone, "Vincent Vega and Donnie Danko have struck again - reveals <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfB3E2YNnNM">a new youtube video</a>!"</span><b> </b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/tfB3E2YNnNM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-39610861818679762402010-11-18T09:52:00.000-08:002010-11-18T09:52:42.984-08:00RockMelt Thumbs Up!<div style="text-align: justify;"> This is perfect ending to a week which started with watching the movie <b>"The Social Network"</b>. A themed browser backed by the Netscape founder is here and is called <b><a href="http://www.rockmelt.com/">RockMelt</a></b>. I had brushed this one aside, before a friend of mine got me hooked onto it. This new browser is really Jazzy even for the net junkies not into the social networking. However, If you are into networking and shit... this is the place to be. It pimps the browsing experience.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> I am a memory conscious animal and since, I am using this 1.83 GHz HP mini, my every step in installing new programme is decided by the memory usage. I checked out the Memory consumption for RockMelt : As much as Google chrome - which in anyways is a one of the lightest in its league.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMy3CsdEnXIlfD_H7-Ye0hIVrgNStzCr5FlK0xeH0hyphenhyphenolPcc1lT26zQjFMtGnPfM7fZfQsLUrXKfDsgYsj4sVTlipsFMuwTCyOwWieYrjt8TlQJ5T5UmvbmCuav0sLYbWPFrR0brfXem6Z/s1600/Rock+Melt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMy3CsdEnXIlfD_H7-Ye0hIVrgNStzCr5FlK0xeH0hyphenhyphenolPcc1lT26zQjFMtGnPfM7fZfQsLUrXKfDsgYsj4sVTlipsFMuwTCyOwWieYrjt8TlQJ5T5UmvbmCuav0sLYbWPFrR0brfXem6Z/s400/Rock+Melt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Itz available on invite only. Go to www.rockmelt.com and seek an invitation. Once, you get the invite (courtesy facebook) you can download it and then, use the facebook login again to step inside. you get to see all your friends on the sidebar. The other pillars of Social Networking (Twitter) are also available for easy navigation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">It seems an all out attack by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Zuckerberg">Mark Zuckerberg</a> on Google. If the messaging service wanted to outdo gmail, RockMelt seems a clever political alliance to drown Chrome.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am not sure about the security and crash resistance yet - but considering its a new age browser it would be at its worst be 1000 times sturdier than the dud called Internet Explorer. You can catch on more detailed review here>> <a href="http://www.vanksen.com/blog/our-drive-by-rockmelt-review/">http://www.vanksen.com/blog/our-drive-by-rockmelt-review/</a>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That ends my first post through RockMelt.</div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-90780724856158613632010-11-01T10:09:00.000-07:002010-11-02T06:09:23.050-07:00Chronicles of a 40 yr old moron II : The Journey<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1pzOOevVFqWoFNH6yNxUU9ZeztHGfvDiiYTBZ7_M_hPvir9yfecEpQXk6_W3OEvacLJgtwYxjbestZfLBXf4IvAgqS5EzSN_V0Pjia3GsioqCqEhbREjGwF7MADZaPY09lUUZyBWz2Hj/s1600/Clipboard03.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1pzOOevVFqWoFNH6yNxUU9ZeztHGfvDiiYTBZ7_M_hPvir9yfecEpQXk6_W3OEvacLJgtwYxjbestZfLBXf4IvAgqS5EzSN_V0Pjia3GsioqCqEhbREjGwF7MADZaPY09lUUZyBWz2Hj/s1600/Clipboard03.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The trilogy began here >> <a href="http://thejaywalk.blogspot.com/2010/09/chronicles-of-40-yr-old-moron-date.html">Chronicles of a 40 yr old moron: The Date </a><br />
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He had decided to meet her at a restaurant near Chowrangee. After a mere 4 hrs of ordeal in front of the mirror (<i>if only mirror could speak :( </i>), our "Man" was ready to go on his date. He took a cab for what was supposed to be a 30 min. drive. The cabbie seemed to be just off his slumber and reluctant to go through the efforts of driving. However, when he did start he did it with a vengeance to grab what every cabbie in Kolkata fantasies about - their place in the podium of a F1 race. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Imagine! A Gutka chewing Bihari stud in a dirty gray shirt waving at a huge crowd which was beating the Durga Puja drums in joy. Lame losers on both sides spraying "desi daaru" on each other. Two women in all their gaudiness and huge boobs falling all over the champ....CRAASSSHHH ! <i>(It is so unfair but all forms of literature must represent a great fantasy ending abruptly - I am merely playing my part).</i> The cabbie had hit a Maadu's Car. Maadu is a wild animal which roams around this part of eastern India and eats pretty much anything that smells of money. A Bong's laziness and a Maadu's efficiency oils the wheels of Kolkata. So, if you have to live in the jungle, you either pay for the accident or run away. The choice was obvious for Jaybert. He reached out to a Tram passing by and fled the crime scene. It was not a good decision; but, considering he has made worse in his life.. Jaybert moved on.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Enjoying the locomotive breath of the snail speed tram, Jaybert slipped into his thoughts. The scenes from his past flashed before his eyes. He had his own tryst with destiny and like a fickle despo Indian male who would fall in love with every gal who would talk sweetly to him, he too had his share of one sided love. After his 1000th attempt at the nubile age of 16, he had his 1st girl friend. The affair lasted exactly 36 hours, 25 minutes and 5 seconds. Day 1 - the couple share the mutual imagination of the confrontation in their heart. Day 2 - the entire day she couldn't meet or talk to him. Jaybert called her in the evening. She had hung up when he told her that he has got a pimple. She never picked his phone again. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> When he was a perfect 21 yr old nerd, a pretty girl again showed interest in him. He would brush past all genuine hints and cat calls like <i>hoor ke saath langoor.</i> Only later, after the exams were over did he realize that the bond between them was strung together by a subject called Microprocessors. As soon as the paper was replaced by easier topics like industrial management, Jaybert's bespectacled eyes and frail hands were replaced by a college rockstar's goggles and his steroid fed biceps. Jaybert took to drinking and spending long time under the shower in trauma.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDLdcX8nnXqrpKs0nQ3yhJ7iDYBCyFN7JmBOKtdEq68-uxbzNzX7uKhxpbUiAuIjSccNDRhlgv0Yq97jfxdOnp9LYNxB1VyXEkCh2JAgjvyJ62BrosedTG7Bns-AAjDSIxHxUly-7HRd0/s1600/Picture3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDLdcX8nnXqrpKs0nQ3yhJ7iDYBCyFN7JmBOKtdEq68-uxbzNzX7uKhxpbUiAuIjSccNDRhlgv0Yq97jfxdOnp9LYNxB1VyXEkCh2JAgjvyJ62BrosedTG7Bns-AAjDSIxHxUly-7HRd0/s320/Picture3.png" width="320" /></a></div>When he was 28, he again delved into a relationship - this time, with a girl who used to work in the same organization as his. That's when cruel fate played its bittersweet trick and introduced IPL. Soon, Jaybert was busy getting IPL updates in his <b>iPhone</b> than having an interest in his girl's growing assets and her declining biological cycle. Soon, she found another man for whom marriage to any non male was the only hope for his life. Thus, it was three on three and beginning of a long dry spell for our friend when he would have only his hand to help him out. This legendary dryspell is also known as <b>Hum-Suffer</b> and is delightfully depicted in a travelogue by William Dalrymple.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>If he was a simple moron, he would have understood by now the world was conspiring to keep the womankind from uniting with the quintessential asshole.</i></div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-82247774474350656592010-09-07T11:43:00.000-07:002010-09-08T10:16:01.128-07:00Chronicles of a 40 yr old Moron: The Date<div style="text-align: justify;">Genre: Fiction<br />
Ratings: 2.5/5<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>For ages, the equation has been simple and crisp - Marry by 30, have a child by 32.. work till 55 and by that time your kids would be ready for another marital bliss.</i><i>You will be able to play with your grandchildren while you are still able to walk.</i> India has moved ahead but the youth has never been able to break this social monotony. Jaybert had simply missed the bus. Not because he is some kind of a social revolutionary but because there aren't enough insane girls in India. Most of his mates are married and have kids. Some of his friends' wives still maintain that the movie "40 year old virgin" was based on Jaybert's life. They recall him by the moron who turns up in all the social gatherings without a partner, behaves awkwardly when they ask him to babysit their child for a few minutes, and tries to hit on their sisters with amazingly consistent lousiness. Jaybert had tried unsuccessfully everything to prove them wrong, including watching an early 90s television show <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0240287/">Mr. Yogi</a> several times for inspiration to browsing through shady friend-finder sites. Recently,one good thing the over ambitious and competitive online dating market had done - was to get a date for Jaybert. If ever there was a Forbes List for Matrimonial sites - this feat should definitely get the site to the top. The site was unambiguously called <b>sambhog.com</b>. The date was tomorrow.<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Chapter 1:</b> <b>The practice wicket</b><br />
While, others of his tribe are either busy mating at this time of the hour or trying to put their love child to sleep, Jaybert seems desperate and clueless in his room. It was time to call your BFF! (<i>BFF is another of those ugly American imports which means Best Friend Forever)</i> and seek advise to impress the girl he is meeting tomorrow. His best buddy in his hussed tone asks him not to do whatever he has done all his life with a girl and in all probability it will hit the right chord. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Jaybert always thought on the wedding night he would do a Hrithik Roshan by coming off with flying colors on his debut. His is a condition which psychoanalysts should call "the theoretical lover". He is all prepared and set, having practiced all the right muscles for nothing less than 20 years. Jaybert thinks the original phrase is "Practice makes the manhood perfect".<br />
10 years back he had seen a movie <a href="http://www.filmjunk.com/2010/01/11/youth-in-revolt-review/"><b>"youth in revolt"</b></a> - and like the protagonist in the movie, Jaybert wants to play the quintessential French guy who can sweep the girl out off her feet. Jaybert is sure, if he can recreate the conditions shown in the movie he will come up with flying colors and definitely <i>patao </i>the girl he is about to date. However, there is just a little lusty difference here - neither is he young nor is he revolting types. He is rather old and revolving type.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7aOO23OyE4uUDvX3hAVY6PwgHmFKvZHdqVup8IRrlJoUszhW8k-4peq41PwCzavvFhAjjO2Xi_tJmU1rlGtQq7Uth324FlVvHISNbwzFgV6hC1pI79hUhk45Mtyx3yr6oAgrio7lJLpO/s1600/Nick-Twisp-Francois-Dillinger-thumb-500x323-21777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7aOO23OyE4uUDvX3hAVY6PwgHmFKvZHdqVup8IRrlJoUszhW8k-4peq41PwCzavvFhAjjO2Xi_tJmU1rlGtQq7Uth324FlVvHISNbwzFgV6hC1pI79hUhk45Mtyx3yr6oAgrio7lJLpO/s320/Nick-Twisp-Francois-Dillinger-thumb-500x323-21777.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Today, dressed in a silk blue shirt with gelled hair, he is repeating some lines in front of the mirror. But, too bad that the only thing he can recall is a teenage pick up line like, "hey! is your dad a terrorist, coz your such a bomb" or "hey! is your dad a lumberjack.. coz I have got wood in my pant." <br />
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Is this the meeting with the beautiful mother of his future children ?or Is this another of those prickly divorced women with a kid, looking for a guy with fat pocket? Watch out this space to see how the story unfolds. Tada.</div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-4184323766501859082010-07-31T11:32:00.000-07:002010-07-31T11:49:30.624-07:00Jayz Lounge: looney lonely music this week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUF_J7fdNfFHCvzIurjW-ZoUoDb_s6HetjVVIxrRZdbNoKIq1EAkx0KiqFP2gxaOHXToxkt_YSuAAgcCCdYP2fdSuOcog1WKpHus1p1-z2S6N9HkaafQ51naZqVM4MrCM6vzTwrLjDBlj/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUF_J7fdNfFHCvzIurjW-ZoUoDb_s6HetjVVIxrRZdbNoKIq1EAkx0KiqFP2gxaOHXToxkt_YSuAAgcCCdYP2fdSuOcog1WKpHus1p1-z2S6N9HkaafQ51naZqVM4MrCM6vzTwrLjDBlj/s320/images.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This week, I have been listening to some slow stoopid romantic and lonely numbers. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snow_Patrol">Snow Patrol</a> and <a href="http://www.last.fm/music/The+Verve">The Verve</a> - Up my Charts this week. Browsing through some you tube videos, I checked out the "Chasing Cars Video" and then, kept on clicking whatever youtube suggested.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Chasing Cars"</b> from Snow Patrol, had become popular after it featured in Grey's Anatomy. Their best albums are <b>Eyes Open</b> and <b>Final Straw</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Verve is a lesser known band, but they had made such good music that they were hailed the best band in the world. Well... that's a bit of an over statement; but you may like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx3m4e45bTo">"Bittersweet symphony"</a>. Too bad that band didn't survive and split soon after the successful <b>"Urban Hymns"</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I didn't wanna tell but I checked out some of New Moon: Twilight soundtrack. I downloaded <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBv5P4Khcz8">Sea Wolf's Violet Hour.</a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You tube had this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfZUxPF7AMI&NR=1">crazy comment for "Chasing Cars"</a>:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a class="author" href="http://www.youtube.com/user/caboose176545" title="caboose176545"><i>caboose176545</i></a></div><div class="metadata"><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="time"><i>1 week ago</i></span><i> </i><span class="comments-rating-positive"><i>4 <img class="master-sprite comments-rating-thumbs-up" src="http://s.ytimg.com/yt/img/pixel-vfl73.gif" /></i></span><i> </i></div></div></div><div class="comment-text" dir="ltr"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>I listened to this the day after i broke up with the most beautiful i ever met, then when the last two lines came i started to sing, and at the last " Would you lay with and just forget the world", i whispered "would you?" and looked up and started to cry...</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">LMAO!.. That one is silly to put it across the web.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But Yeah! Love is a wonderful feeling and losing it is equally saddening.. Thus, I have become officially insane to write such gooey stuff and listen to such songs.</div></div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-35504488486168913022010-07-03T08:08:00.000-07:002010-07-03T08:12:11.298-07:00Fantasy Football: Paraguay Wins<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>Its a Tale of Shifting Loyalities.</i></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8Anje5LcxOYR69K8eyIL2S63ek9KdM-qTUsG3UHrKrCJ4vFPqCeSN16Wxnt-zpX_88KTLf3HIxG1R0u0iHiiMvgTHMa75egmoOxyJQ-k58C16Z_wMPgGfpuc8mF7xnZWwls7wUHqSjaR/s1600/Paraguayan+Model.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8Anje5LcxOYR69K8eyIL2S63ek9KdM-qTUsG3UHrKrCJ4vFPqCeSN16Wxnt-zpX_88KTLf3HIxG1R0u0iHiiMvgTHMa75egmoOxyJQ-k58C16Z_wMPgGfpuc8mF7xnZWwls7wUHqSjaR/s200/Paraguayan+Model.jpg" width="148" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQaAcDLl4ksMhhqzViH4XAoPrQDs6E8S_VDEGZNiRIe_in3DG0j4eoWy_r1Pe881NaweLPRUHZl_GtHA586dQGAymZcWaC2NLWM4Li2ECBS7AraImjjhNAAKt5sKiKThXyylPlVKrnlsB/s1600/para-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQaAcDLl4ksMhhqzViH4XAoPrQDs6E8S_VDEGZNiRIe_in3DG0j4eoWy_r1Pe881NaweLPRUHZl_GtHA586dQGAymZcWaC2NLWM4Li2ECBS7AraImjjhNAAKt5sKiKThXyylPlVKrnlsB/s200/para-2.jpg" width="146" /></a></div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i>ANY BODY FOR PARAGUAY? Lingerie model Larissa Riquelme has pledged to run naked “with my body painted with the colours of Paraguay’’ if her country wins the World Cup | AFRICARNIVAL P 19, 20 ref: Times of India, 01 July 2010.</i></div></div></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>Paraguay faced Spain in an epic encounter. Spain retained 80% possession in the match - only a few times they let Paraguay players touch the ball - the Paraguayans scored. It was a lame ass revisit to the Switzerland match. however, this time - people across the world rejoiced and the Spanish Armada was knocked out. </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><i>Next, they faced the Gritty and disciplined Germans. It was not a team of footballers - but it was a well trained army. They had destroyed the Argentinians 3-2 in a show of might. Everyone thought the Paraguayans had scored a fluke win against the Spanish and the semis would be a cake walk for the Germans. The Destiny had something exciting in store. Germans played well - they definitely did - but somehow they were like little school buys in the Paraguayan D. Just after the half time - scores of young paraguayan gals "flashed" .. right in front of the German keeper. The sight must have shook the German wall -- what else do you think could have happened because the next moment resulted in a goal. The keeper fumbled the ball as if it was a fish - in a stoopid attempt to clear the ball - Lahm deflected it to their own post. Paraguay 1 - 0 Germany.</i> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> People eagerly await the WC finals when the Paraguayans take on the mighty Dutch. The web has been swept with support for the Paraguayans. Twitter and Facebook are swamped by what is now called the <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">Paraguayan tit pit army.</span></b> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Even distant despo Indians have changed colors to support Paraguay. Two days back Brazil, Argentina and Spain were suddenly replaced by Paraguayan demigods and all of them cherished the above fantasy. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Two days back was the day when <b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_957142043">Times of India</a></b><a href="http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Default/Client.asp?Daily=TOIKM&showST=true&login=default&pub=TOI&Enter=true&Skin=TOINEW&GZ=T"> had splashed a young Paraguayan Model's fullsome bosoms</a>. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">It also quoted her vow to run naked on the streets with her body painted in Paraguayan Colors. A canny Arnab Goswami, lead new anchor of Times Now screamed it was Times of India which garnered the support of Indians by showing <b>Larissa Riquelme</b> on the front page. The little man-crushes on Messi, Kaka and David Villa were replaced by the a desire to see the Paraguayan win. It was not the first time someone has promised to run naked if his teams wins. The mercurial Maradona had some time back vowed to do it. However, it never resulted in such a metamorphosis of football fans across the world. Estrogen is a willy old fox - you are defenseless against it. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> When a random Indian walking with Paraguayan flag painted on his face was asked, "So, why do you support Paraguay?" He answered, " Since, India can't be there for next 100 years - there is little stake of an Indian in the soccer world cup. But if Paraguay wins at least we will have some visual pleasure," Do you know where is Paraguay?" "Somewhere near Las Vegas." Take a look at her and you decide which side to support in the World Cup.</span></span></div></span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><u>Meanswhile - feminists have decided to lodge a protest with FIFA against such a materialistic treatment of women. It is also heard that they have asked Blogger and Google to remove this blogpost.</u></i></b></div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-79676793245163538732010-06-26T09:41:00.000-07:002010-06-28T01:14:47.710-07:00Deed as a DODO<div style="text-align: justify;">Disclaimer: This post is off the track - like the chain reaction of randomness...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are a few things, I should have learned from others but I didn't e.g. devil may care attitude from <a href="http://urs4ever.files.wordpress.com/2008/04/govinda-compilation.png">Govinda's</a> dressing sense and sex nirvana from <a href="http://ishare.rediff.com/video/others/swami-nityanand-exposed-/1273173">Swami Nityanand</a>. These are missed opportunities. Lately, I have decided to be more sensitive and pick up inspiration from the surroundings wherever possible. One such inspiring personality is DODO. Double "DO" doesn't mean he does a lot. Now, why is he called Dodo? - I will leave it your imagination. <i>Dodo - used to be a flightless bird and considered extinct in its feather avatar. It also used to be part of a fascinating term "dead as a dodo", before it was over used by one Mr. I-can't-shut-my-hole Sidhu for cricket commentary. Wiki mentions it as a Biblical name possibly meaning beloved whereas; </i><b><i>answers.com</i></b><i> attributes it to someone who is out of date.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH12MDGh9x3npueY3y33lHPc-J0lKgjCBIW6AtW7UHGu7sDr2cupSLT1n5g-McS0R0BeHwXBbpROXt44ZAjurExl5BsplN_NzxZN91ebs1WCayg5xNfv-Zzp6qtiqHUn7sWrKKQQ1lObHy/s1600/2008-10-08-zoology-factoid-the-dodo-bird-of-science.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH12MDGh9x3npueY3y33lHPc-J0lKgjCBIW6AtW7UHGu7sDr2cupSLT1n5g-McS0R0BeHwXBbpROXt44ZAjurExl5BsplN_NzxZN91ebs1WCayg5xNfv-Zzp6qtiqHUn7sWrKKQQ1lObHy/s320/2008-10-08-zoology-factoid-the-dodo-bird-of-science.png" width="315" /></a></div>Dodo has all the aspirations for a good life and probably has a taste for it too. But, don't make the mistake of him being in the same league as Mr. I-have-got-money-Mallaya. He is a Jabber-walky alright! but not as much of a loud mouth as the liquor baron. Our Dodo is a mellowed - a more feminine version of the king of good times, a lazier arse - prolly a hippo. Sitting in the back of his car and turning the pages of the newspaper, I realize he has muttered some 3 more cars he wants to own. He already has a car and I have none. While people go on rambling about the cars they see all around - I can barely identify a pony. I was sure, so much of car talk will make me shit little <i><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1627823831">hot wheel</a></b></i><b><a href="http://media.pc.guias-trucos-juegos.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/hot-wheels-pc.jpg">s</a></b> next morning. Do you recall a commercial where Kareena smashes your brains with the constant jabber? I think it was an Airtel ad. Well! <i>(if Dodo doesn't mind)</i> - at times he is a chatterbox like her. Having said all that, Dodo is a nice guy and you don't mind the ramble. Once a while you could fuck around with him, "Dodo! Did you think Raveena was hot in that wet yellow saree in Tip Tip Barsa Paani". He looks at me and sayz, "despo!". I say, "lol!".<br />
The other day he mooned over which watch should he buy - Fossil, Swatch and .. so on. The bare wrist of mine smiled at me - while I ignored Dodo's moaning. There are other things which give him orgasm - like the luxury resorts they show in "<b>Travel and Living"</b>. I think once or twice I switched on to watch that channel on TV was when I was prolly sleepwalking or was doped to insanity. Most likely, Dodo would have been a more appropriate name for me than anyone else. <br />
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If ever I have some money to spend and I have trouble deciding what to do. I would pick Dodo's list of endless things to do b4 you die <i>(read marry)</i>. That'll be a no-brainer. But till then, the thing that satisfies me is home cook food and ride back home from office in Dodo's car. For the record - Dodo is a gr8 cook and a sad pilot. </div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-49236517157175865322010-04-27T10:29:00.000-07:002014-01-23T21:40:50.728-08:00Lady Gaga Gossip: An Indian Lover reveals all<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><u>Excerpts from the June 2014 edition of Cosmopolitan </u></b><br />
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<i>Five years back it was dark, when</i><br />
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<i>I had experienced the sparkle of the pink. </i></div>
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<i>I do remember, I did wink; </i></div>
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<i>only now, I realize - that's when I had started to sink.</i></div>
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It was a regular office meeting, my colleagues were giggling and passing a piece of paper while I was presenting. Though, I was at a vantage point in the room, I could only figure out that its some kinda news clip. As soon as the meeting was over, I let my curiosity go wild.I could hear myself say - this is my Jason Bourne moment. Tactfully, I had put my hand on the table while I was engaged in the conversation with my boss.I leaned towards him, as if I wanted to listen to him intently. Meanwhile, I dragged my hand on the table till it rested on the piece of paper. I slowly slid that piece of paper in my pocket while I politely said bye to my Boss.</div>
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I rushed to the loo and took that piece of paper out. It was a news clip with a semi nude pic of my wife. There was something written in bold, <i>"The debate resurfaces - Lady Gaga has a wee wee!! Papparazzzzzi"</i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">**Snap**</span><br />
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<b>When Harry met Sally</b></div>
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Back in the beginning of 2009, I had just moved to Singapore, heading logistics division of a Media and Event Management company. A new kid on the block called Lady Gaga was on her Asia Tour. It was called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_fame_ball_tour"><b>T</b><b>he Fame Ball Tour</b></a>. It was my luck, as they got stuck, and I had to dig all of them out of a sticky situation. Lady Gaga had thanked me by shaking hands and saying, "<i>Poker Face</i>".</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">**Snap**</span></div>
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Later, during the dinner she told me - how much she likes my science Mombo Jumbo. I flashed a freaky smile and said nothing. I knew deep inside I had blushed... and that's how the citadel was crushed. She kept all our email and text messages a secret, till she realized that having an Indian doting husband is cool. Whereas, I thought when <a href="http://the-big-bang-theory.com/">Leonard can have Penny</a> .. well why can't I? (learning: too much of soaps make you dull and you go big bang! cough! **). A delayed <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Monster_Ball_Tour">Monsters Ball</a> tour late in 2010 meant, I had the opportunity to spend some more time with her. The air was abuzz with stories whether Lady Gaga was a hermaphrodite or not. I advised her the way out.<br />
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Generosity and charity to the third world was a PR ploy. A poor hungry brownie hanging by the side of a super Hot White Chick was cool. It could have been a kid for Angelina or Madonna and Jay for Gaga. I was blind to all. I used to think, helping her locate India in the world map, was cute. It used to give me pleasure teaching her the difference between the Red Indians and the Brown Indians. She was the reason I hooked onto twitter. I introduced her to Indian Food and Bollywood. wow!<br />
Once, my college juniors approached me for a performance in our annual College fest "Chaos".It fed my ego. Once disowned son was being approached by its Alma mater. Later, when it was realized that it would be very inappropriate to have a very skimpily clad celeb to dance in the land of Gandhi, the show was scrapped. Choices in my life were being decided by national political vendetta.</div>
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Photoshop had rescued me, when I had to show her pics to my parents. I told my mom, Ga - Ga <i>(sing - sing)</i> is an Indian pet name that I bestowed on her. I didn't realize the collective fraud that I was conspiring - was actually a joke on me.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">**Snap**</span></div>
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Since then, a lot of piss has gone down the drain. I am not justifying her faith on me. Earlier, every sight of hers used to fill me with Joy. Now, I am not that amused with all her pics, spread all over walls at home.I don't get up in the night to pee for her larger than life pic on the wall scares me. </div>
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Back then, whatever she said was music to ears. I easily traveled the arduous path of Rock to POP. Now, at times she comes up with strange conversations. I could only guess that, it must be cool to the outside world but I don't really help much to propel the conversation for long. One day said that she was to attend the stage with Madonna at an awards night, and whether smooching a women on stage beyond her menopause would still be Sexy or not? I looked at her with startled eyes. I shouted at her, "Just the other day I had the opportunity to make out with my secretary and I didn't, sighting her moral obligation. Goodness gracious me! y didn't I do that?" She said, "yeah! right!". Things are not the same. It's different.<br />
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I am bound by contract with Cosmopolitan, from spilling more beans here. Please, Buy <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">COSMOPOLITAN June 2014 to read more.</span></b><br />
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JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-68630516417337304202010-03-10T05:47:00.000-08:002010-07-18T06:10:32.902-07:00Knight and Gay Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgGx9J2fQMin7uvLwBYxID65WFwMU9bhj5Y9lInEpHRW3vG22HwhgOnU0-J7i6Z79OX5cHrDF6dmSEh857QSYgVXdoNnJ8xySC4oyjOttjucjV8QKy2gHnXijSTVZQddCW4sWQ-oLGf-k/s1600/index.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgGx9J2fQMin7uvLwBYxID65WFwMU9bhj5Y9lInEpHRW3vG22HwhgOnU0-J7i6Z79OX5cHrDF6dmSEh857QSYgVXdoNnJ8xySC4oyjOttjucjV8QKy2gHnXijSTVZQddCW4sWQ-oLGf-k/s320/index.jpeg" width="217" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">How often would you expect a 48 year old yesteryear hunk and a 38 year old yesteryear damsel to sizzle the silver screen? Rarely?? Well, in Bollywood, yes! but you expect by Hollywood standards, they may come up with something nice. With Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz; it becomes all that more probable. That's the optimism which made us pay for the obscene fee of the weekend tickets at South City's Fame Cinemas on a weekend. Alas! This is a season of disappointments. It turned out to be damp squib like the Brazil's performance at the World Cup. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">The best way to explain this shit of a movie is to say - <b>"Its a lame attempt at Rajnikanth from Hollywood"</b>. Tom is a CIA spy, who acts as a comic book superhero and is trying to save a <i>magic battery</i> (lol !). He is so lame at it that you burst into laughter at his histrionics and action scenes. Cameron competes well and doesn't do properly one thing a chick is supposed to do in an action thriller - look a sexy hot bimbo. She looks old, really old. For people like us who grew on <i>"Mask"</i> and <i>"There is something about Mary"</i> image, this is shattering of a dream.<i> </i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>And why was it named "Knight and Day" ? There was one reference that Tom's character's real sir name is Knight. But Knight and day is not a clever play on the phrase - Day and Night.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>In an act from an imbecile's book, Tom defies all sense and walks amidst a rain of bullet's to prove his love for Cameroon. And that is the scene you carry home in your mind - to recall whenever you wanna take a dig or mention a stoopid joke as a conversation starter.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Tom! Oh! Tom! There is only one Rajni and there will always be one Rajni. Skip this Movie!!. </div>JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7265461828995585135.post-18674919919386335972010-01-09T01:16:00.000-08:002013-08-26T04:42:33.033-07:00Pimpin in Park Street<div style="text-align: justify;">
Every little celebration in Kolkata culminates in Park Street (..the other place would be Tangra, china Town given that your not a rich kid). Park Street also underlines the Liberal Society that Kolkata harbors. Just the other day we were having dinner at Peter Cat when we witnessed two men, sitting besides us, poking at each others' mouth with their tongue. I looked at Naughty Nero and smiled. Naughty Nero said, “Your intense glare is now making me nervous; please, look away.” <br />
Though it’s a bit of an unfair illustration, but not entirely inaccurate. If you call Kolkata the gay capital of India – your dart is not falling far off. Startling scenes (..by Shiv Sena standards) would paint the landscape of Park street. So, you can see free flowing alcohol but hardly any drunken brawls, transvestites hitting the discs at night but hardly being treated as social outcasts and plunging necklines but hardly any stares. (Ummm.. ok the last one is untrue. That would be very unIndian and disrespectful towards women and their right to be stared at.)</div>
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Ok... another one before my moral ethos kick in.<br />
If you have landed up in Park Street for food, there is 80 % chance that you will1st try your luck in BarbQ. It serves awesome Tandoori delicacies. That’s what I did following Jay's 1st law of hunger i.e. to find tandoori chicken when hungry. The place was crowded. We were hushed away by the manager with a grin as there was "no room for Bachelors". As soon as we left dejected, Nature did its balancing act. It had sent a Messiah of bachelors. In laymen's language you can call him THE PIMP. These guys roam around the entire locality like little cock-roaches (lol! what an apt name). A shady character approached us and brushed past us mumbling something like, "kuchh chahiye kya sir". In the moment of confusion, the pimp came closer and said, "Sir! kuchh sewa karoon?". I smiled and said, "What the F!!" “College girl bhi hai!" blurted that slimy old fart. Just before I could nod my head in refusal, Naughty Nero interrupted, "Kitna loge (How much)!!" I distanced myself before any acquaintance could see me getting my hands dirrrty. I waited for Naughty Nero to finish his adventure. He seemed to love every bit of the interaction. He always had said, "He is the only broker who doesn't mind being called a broker." These were the longest 5 minutes of my life. Naughty Nero joined me with a smile of a man who just had his orgasm, leaving the pimp perplexed.<br />
“Why were you unnecessarily bugging that guy?” <br />
Naughty Nero said, "Chill dude! I was just negotiating. That guy was quoting exorbitant rates for the women sitting beside the Metro Station. lol!! Who is gonna shell out hundreds by the hour. I asked him when the fun is only for the 15 - 20 minutes why should I pay for the hour. Docomo ka naam suna hai (Have you heard of Docomo). Brother! ab telecom mein bhi per second billling hai. It seems a classic case of lack of competition." I countered like a sloppy snake woken suddenly. I was surprised and shocked at his argument, which looked stupid at the periphery but really required some thought to beat it hollow.<br />
While I imagined getting calls from unknown numbers pitching for new post paid plan, "Use our girls, pretty ones in all shapes and sizes! Pay a minimum rental and pay by the second"; Naughty Nero signed off by saying, "Boy! Do the new!”</div>
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JAYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01449060666458734563noreply@blogger.com9