When Ravi Shastri and Virat Kohli turn politicians...

And the whole crowd went berserk in an instant; it was so loud that I could hardly hear myself think. Before this the loudest scenario I had ever been was when I watched the first show of a GULTI movie, but this was atleast 10 Junior NTR DB levels higher than that. I was really impressed with the composure that Virat Kohli displayed in what was his first election rally; he seemed surprisingly calm and composed as he went up on stage. It was Ravi Shastri who walked around frenetically on to the stage, waving his hands as if he had experienced a mini orgasm. He didn’t even wait till all of them settled on stage; he directly went on to the stage and started the rally. He seemed like a man in desperate hurry and who wasn’t keen on wasting even a second, but for me it looked like a man who wanted to vomit all out he had mugged up before he forgets it.

“Aaamchi Mumbai, Vanakkam Chennai, Kemon aachho Kolkatta, Chennagidiya Bengaluru, Susvaagatam Hyderabad, Namasteeeyyyyy Delhi. What we are going to witness here is a serious competition between BJP and Congress, and the rules of the game say that there can only be one winner. But at this moment it looks like the match will go right down to the wire and looks all three results are possible – a win, loss and a tie. This is what makes it a very exciting game because the final result is not known until the last vote is casted. In terms of entertainment value for the neutrals this is just what the doctor ordered. As the game goes on, you expect the reverse swing to come into play as the balls are getting older, but nothing can substitute experience. These people are Pro’s at their own game and it will be interesting to see as the contest is nicely poised at this moment. At the end of the day, this pressure cooker situation is going to make everyone go down all guns blazing. Make no mistake about it; this tracer bullet fired today by the party’s agenda is going to set the cat amongst the pigeons among the government. As a common man we people have to believe that something’s got to give very soon. The last thing we people want at this stage is some leader playing a silly shot, we need leaders who can stand up and be counted, someone who can use the long handle to good effect.

We had an excellent exhibition of democracy in the last elections. Over 10 lakh votes were cast, and in the end, it took a superb innings from the opposition leader to win it for them. Can the government pull something out of the hat this time too? Is there going to be another twist in the tail? That’s the question on everyone’s lips.

The stage has been nicely set up for a thrilling climax, and that’s the beauty of this game. At the end of the day, whoever comes out on top in these elections, Deomocracy is the winner.

Long Live India. Long Live BCCI. Long Live IPL. Only Sachin can decide when to retire. Jai Hind!!!”

He walked off the stage with the same intensity and anger he came on to the stage with. My ears were still buzzing with echoes of the loud barrage it experienced in the last 5 minutes. That was like 10 Junior NTRs + 5 Ravi Tejas + 3 Balakrishnas together. My ears were bleeding with the loud obscenity it had been exposed to; my mind was spinning with all the clichés unable to make sense of anything.

But still there seemed to be no respite. Just as immediately as Ravi Shastri settled down, Virat Kohli came up to start his speech. Advaita was all rapt and engrossed, she had not taken her eyes off him from the moment he entered. I must confess Virat Kohli was damn suave and rich today, and he looked surprisingly very level headed today. I was excited myself to hear him and I was looking forward for some sense out of this entire rally.

“AREY BEHENCHODH. Teri Maa ki government what did they do when India lost to England? MAADERCHODH SAALA.  Teri Behen ki... (BEEP)… Australian team Haraami Saala… (BEEP)… beat us, what the hell was the government doing then?  Teri Maan Dee… (BEEP)… When India won the world cup Puddu Kutha… (BEEP)…”

Whoever had the brains to BEEP in at the right moments; it was like watching a WWE show when they used to BEEP every time a cuss word was used. The farthest WWE shows went to was a FUCK, but sitting here was like attending a Doctorate degree on Punjabi Gaali. He didn’t seem to be particularly angry about anything; it was the way he normally was on a cricket field. And every time the BEEP came the crowd erupted more with joy, which egged him on for more.

“Why is the IPL being targeted for no reason? People messing up with IPL Teri Gaandu Chuityaa ki Maaderchodh Behenchodh… (BEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP)…” And not a single word of him was heard after that, the noise became so deafening that even Advaita wouldn’t have been able to hear me. She had put her fingers into her ears when Virat started and hadn’t taken it out till now.

“And finally one thing I want to say Ghashti Dallah Maader… (BEEEP)… we all will do it for Sachin Paaji. I will vote for Sachin Paaji in the elections. Sachin Paaji…”

Virat Kohli hadn’t finished when a bunch of security people got on stage and escorted all the leaders away. And in an instant, the entire rally was over.

Vikram’s Hierarchy of Delhi Girls

For a guy who has lived the best part of my life in Pune, where girls have as much facial hair as those Shivaji statues everywhere, Delhi is like a paradise, a heaven full of clean shaven hairless female beauty. For the best part of my initial two months in Delhi I used to never look beyond those waxed blemish free legs and speck free underarms. I feel hands especially underarms have been unjustifiably down the pecking order in selection criteria by guys – but for me they would be near the very top. And if you’re in Delhi, the girls make sure they expose you to a copious amount of skin, putting you in a daze difficult to come out of if you happen to have the fetishes like I do. It would have taken around a month for me to grow over it, and pull up the courage to approach a girl and strike a conversation.

Only for me to repent later. Its best left when they are unspoken to and you end up ogling from a distance. The realization occurred late, but in time for me to chalk out Vikram’s Hierarchy of Delhi Girls for the greater good of mankind – A foolproof strategy to determine your scoring pattern needs.

Hierarchy #1: HOT BIMBOS

Their typical characteristics are hotness peppered with an overdose of more hotness. For the people in this category are just that – INSANELY HOT!! And it’s best if you let your dreams tingle from a distance and not even remotely attempt to talk any intelligent stuff with them. There are good chances that you’ll voluntarily lay yourself prey to the tigers in Jim Corbett. Found only in a group of three or four with a dotted pink bag in places like Select City and Big Chill areas. The easiest way to spot them would be to wait and watch out for their periodic giggling at some absurdly inane and dumb object or person.

Best to sit and watch from a distance, or get ready for a 100m dash at a speed Usain can’t Bolt if you feel they are walking up to you to pick up a conversation.

Hierarchy #2: THE PUNJ EFFECT

 Overarching subset of hierarchy #1 added with a little splash of more beauty replacing the only hotness content of #1 set. A splash of bindaas debonair attitude coupled with a better grammatical hold English and a heavy Punjabi accent to differentiate them from hierarchy #1. Very open and extremely forward looking to try out new things in life.

Best option to try out your luck if you can somehow overcome two giant turban clad (yellow and pink) brothers and an I-have-more-hair-than-a-bear father. If you can negotiate them this hierarchy is definitely the best bet, or be prepared for some ball crushing when they start their trucks.

My quick tip is to make an attempt if you find thin Punjabi family members, but then a thin Punjabi is an oxymoron.

Hierarchy #3: ALMA MATTER SHIT

Highly associated with the hierarchies 1 and 2, many of them will be their best buddies and also the fucking moral police dissuading them of the rightful pleasures of life of that age. Invariably from a middle-class background with a dad owning Maruti car and patriarchal lineage to a Bong or a Mallu, and currently pursuing a degree in either D.U or St. Stephens or JNU. Invariably snobbish and pricey about anything in life, will have sound opinions and would be hoping the moral high ground on matters of national importance. Highly average looking accentuated by an excessive use of a Pallika Bazaar perfume, barring a small minority this hierarchy is majorly laden with tasteless people evident from their Samsung phones.

Best way to spot them is if you find them starting and ending a conversation with their Alma Matter, or the easier option would be to just watch out for their phones. Generally disgruntled lot who presents a high scoring probability, but, think twice before doing anything.

Hierarchy #4: THE HAUZ KHAS ONES

 The one who occupy the highest order in Vikram’s hierarchy, and easily the only worthy ones where intelligence and beauty sits wonderfully on them. Generally found in places like Hauz Khas, Oxford Cha Bar reading a novel or skimming The Hindu or The Caravan, or blindly choose the one possessing an iPhone to be from this hierarchy. You will find them with minimal make up, wearing a mild fragrance of Chanel mostly in a simple tee-jean combo. The chances are that you’ll find them always ready for a nice conversation, be prepared for a heavy dose of “You bet” and “Kidding Atrocious” in their talk and also to be swept off by a highly engaging smile.

The next time you meet such kind of people, do remember to act quick, depending on their return flight from Delhi.  

Snippet 2 - The Election Rally

“Vikram this is going to be an important rally today, my guess is the opposition party will lay out their election manifesto and principal platform on which they are going to fight these elections today. Also it will be interesting to see if they will project someone as their chief ministerial candidate today – there are quite a few factions and some very influential leaders; it’s going to be a tough pick. Do you prefer the idea of revealing the identity of your top man before the elections or would you prefer it after the elections Vikram?”

Sometimes I have serious doubts as to whether Advaita asks these questions really caring for my opinion or just to test my complete ignorance on the topic. Actually I couldn’t still come to terms with the crowd that has assembled for this rally. It was scorching heat easily in the high 40s, but the people who had turned up had no qualms about it. They were everywhere – there was a huge section of people beyond the barricaded section which had no seats, my rough estimate would be a minimum of a lac people there.

Thankfully the press license got us cushy seats in the front right below the dais. Judging by the number of media persons who were there for coverage and the police, army and BSF people present, it did look like an important rally.

“Hey Vikram, look there Barkha Dutt and her entire crew is here, I never knew she is taking up these state elections. Vikram we have a fight for space against the big shots in the industry” Barkha Dutt is from the NDTV, I have met her once before during a small function. I noticed then and even today – she has a horrible and awkward sense of choosing her ear rings – so yucky.

“Isn’t her ear rings so cool Vikram? She has a very good choice of ear rings this is the first time I am seeing this one – this is killer. “It’s impossible to explain the fascination of these girls for going weird and considering it cool fashion. I hate it when they load themselves with all ornaments ever possible that could be fitted on to them. Half of them do it to impress guys, but someone should tell them we guys hate all this meaningless stuff they wear to call it fashion. A guy’s fashion wardrobe would be complete with an unwashed jean, a crunched tee, a pair of slippers and a watch. To wear a perfume would be luxury and it could complete his bridal set. As Jean Isaacs would have put it simplicity is the best beauty. But these girls will never understand.

The rally was supposed to start at 9 but it was already well past 10 and not a single politician had arrived. However, there seemed to be no concern among the people who were present there; they considered it a huge privilege to be even present there at that rally. Surprisingly for such a huge group of people the level of obedience and discipline was staggering. There were passionate chants and slogans, people were waving party flags enthusiastically, and the whole scene seemed like from a football match sans the hooliganism.

The hooting of the sirens was deafening, and more so when it came from more than a hundred cars at the same time. It would have taken a minimum of ten minutes for the sandstorm it created to settle down. For a moment it was like a human hostage scenario, an entire army was present there equipped with AK-47s, Kalashnikovs and a few more I have seen before only in Counter Strike. Every time a member got down, the loudspeakers played out a special song for him, and each one of them carried out a set of his planned entry steps. Once all of them were out, they stood in the center of the arena and posed once before the crowd who went ballistic with joy. It seemed like I was the only one who felt like watching WWE all over again. And the loudspeakers went again to welcome the final entry of whoever was in the caravan.

AILAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I wasn’t sure whether the mirage was playing tricks with my imagination, suddenly the temperature shot up by 10 more degrees; I could feel my whole body going numb, and my throat went completely parched of water. From the caravan, she blew a kiss for the crowd once before CHITRANGADHA SINGH walked over to the dais along with the others.

It seemed like my eyes were waiting for only this in life, it just wouldn’t blink however hard I tried. Chitrangadha was wearing a bright yellow sari with a red border which was tied up on top of the head, along with a head anklet which covered the rest of her hair. The head anklet matched beautifully in sync with her earrings which went a few layers down that it almost bounced and kissed around with joy with her shoulders. Her full array of bangles was visible which went up all the way down to the elbow as she rested her chin on those fingers and her arms lay tenderly on those crossed legs. A lot of people say that her nose is too sharp enough, but for me it’s perfect especially with the piercing she had done. Even a prick would have been enough to pierce such a soft nose. But the real killer piece was her necklace which rested right between her breasts. Whatever good karma had that necklace done in previous births to be where it was.

Everything in the world came to a halt. Everything. The chants around, the army of police in front, the scorching heat, everything vanished. My entire universe was Chitrangadha Singh. She was damn hotter in real life than the countless Youtube videos and pictures on Santabanta and other websites I have spent time over. There was literally not a single thing imperfect about her.  I realized I hadn’t blinked a wink in the last ten minutes or how much ever time had really passed.

Then I did. When it happened for the second time, there was no doubt it was at me. The first time I thought it was someone behind me. But she put out her index finger and pointed specifically at me the second time around. She gave a smile when I had finally understood.

From my childhood I was not very good at Dumb-C, had always considered it too girly. Those were Rahul kind of games, simply not for me. But how do I know that in the future there would be a dire need for that stupid-ass game in an important life juncture like this now? Chitrangadha was furious, she was waving frenetically at me. For a moment, I thought I should ask Advaita for help, but then decided against, she will only end up worsening my case.

This time it was obvious – I can’t mess up on this one. She was pointing at me and asking me to follow her. I saw her mumble on the ears of the person next to her and went down from the stage. She entered the caravan and before entering it gave a final indication asking me to come over. The doors went shut in an instant.

The message was clear for me; Chitrangadha was waiting for me inside the caravan. But why would she want to meet me? Probably she has a track of how many times I have seen her videos on Youtube. Surely it has to be something regarding that, and the fact that she is calling me alone would mean that I might be shot over for all my misdemeanors. In this sea of army and police people, none will ever come to know.  Or what if she wanted to just ..? I decided to take a chance, what’s the worst that can happen to me? Even if I end up being shot by Chitrangadha, it would be the highest honor of natural death that could ever be inflicted upon me.

She wasn’t inside the caravan when I entered but she heard me enter. She said she will be right there in two minutes and asked me to be seated inside. I was not sure whether it was Marc Jacobs Daisy or Chanel Coco Mademoiselle, but the entire place was full of it. The caravan was actually a mess, there were dresses and shoes thrown across everywhere, magazines were all across the floor, hardly any place to sit down. I managed to squeeze in the little space that was available on the couch.

“This place is in a complete mess now, I haven’t quite got the time to clear these stuff out for a while, has been a very hectic week” How I survived another heart attack is beyond me. Chitrangadha was standing in the edge of the room; she had just come out of a bath. She was standing there sans any of her ornaments her hair dripping wet. She had changed over onto a different Sari, stunningly all black this time.

The Sari has to rank amongst the greatest innovations of Indians ever. Who cares about the Zero or the number system, if not us, the Chinese would have invented them a few years later. But the Sari could have been done only by us. It exactly knows what to hide and what to reveal all in the right proportions to set the right kind of ambiance. Always.

“Don’t mind huh, there is absolutely no space. I would have to squeeze in here only” Fuck all the Marc Jacobs’ or the Chanel Coco’s, the natural scent of a woman should be the most enchanting one ever. Chitrangadha was sitting so close that I could smell the scent of her just bathed body. How I wished the place had been messier.

“So how are you doing Vikram? I had long wanted to meet you; I am a huge fan of your articles that I haven’t missed out a single one till now. The main reason I agreed to come to this rally is knowing that GID will be covering this.”

SHE KNOWS MY NAME!!! By then, my body had become immune and resistant to any kind of shock it could take. She opened a bottle of Romanee Conti and poured a glass for both of us. She went on talking about her upcoming movies and the characters she was essaying in them, while I sat trying to control my constantly drifting eyes towards her navel.

“So you tell me about your current article you’re working on Vikram.” As I tell her about she sat enraptured and very attentive to all I was saying. But a glimpse of her eyes told me a different thing – one of a longing hope, and a delicious interest. I carefully avoid any cues my mind wants me to believe fully aware that I might be shot down the next instant.

She started running her fingers through her while she was taking a sip of wine from her glass. We were sitting perilously close by then I could feel her legs which were almost entangled onto mine. It was becoming impossibly human for me to control my emotions. This time it seemed too obvious. She held out her hand and let the wine glass ever slowly slip out of her fingers. It took an eternity for the crackle of the glass as it hit the ground, and the drop of the wine to land onto her lower lip.

The next thing I knew I was running through her hair ever so slightly and letting the drops of water wet my hand. She slid down a little letting my stoke her and she could place her legs on my lap. She had an endless pair of legs the kind that has exactly the right kind of muscle so that they don’t look skinny and just not too much so they look manly enough. I took her feet and gently caressed them a little planting a small kiss. She let out a small giggle, as I slowly slipped my hand up to her shin.

WHAT GIFTED PAIR OF LEGS WERE THESE!!! How much ever advancement I made, my hands kept sliding and tumbling down. Even a sculpted mannequin would not have been such porcelain like. She adjusted herself down so she accommodate a little more of me, and by this time I was literally on top of her.

I run my lips slowly across her ears as I could hear her moan, which I conveniently ignore. I could see her eyes shut, as I get a little manlier on her ears while I simultaneously let my hands slide on her naval. I could constantly hear her moans, which were getting a little louder and gasps out of her mouth in constant intervals. She tangled her feet around me in a vicious twist both of us went tumbling onto the floor. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet; she was down on the floor in an array of magazines, clothes and a part of her makeup kit.  The lipstick had painted a few unscripted but inviting designs on her cheek. The Adams’ apple on her throat made violent reverberations calling for attention. This was Eden for me but it was no sin I was going to commit; I was ready to show her the pathway to a forbidden pleasure.

It had long been my dream to make love on a messy floor, and here it was. Even in my wildest erotic dreams I hadn’t imagined having Chitrangada on a messy floor. But here she was on the floor waiting for me to run over her. Yo Baby, Here I Come.

THUD!!!

  

I was on the ground run over by a swarm of filthy legs and farting asses, mud and sand all over my face; I was up to life by a barrage of gun shots. When I stood up I was being held at gunpoint as I watched Chitrangada escorted by an army of police personnel into her caravan. That selfish bitch didn’t even look at me once before speeding away in her caravan. It took an hour for some peace to restore and the entire clamour to settle down.

“These uncivilized rogues Vikram, all of them who have come here, don’t know how to behave in an important rally” So the rally didn’t even happen, just when Chitrangada had come on to speak the crowd barged on to the field creating a stampede and disrupting the proceedings.

SIGH!!! What it also meant was that it was not just the rally which didn’t happen today. 

Cash-for-Entry Scam

This has to rank amongst the most audacious things ever done by anyone. Atleast by me. SIGH!!! I let out a huge gasp of relief and after what seemed like an hour I lifted my head up. The instructions given to me were very clear from the beginning; at no cost should I lift my head up till I have reached inside. What I didn’t realize at that point was at no cost included being pointed at by an AK47 ready to blow your temples off. Anyways now am alive and inside I can afford to look up and look back at what I have done.

“Vikram just don’t panic and remember to keep looking down no matter what, the rest I will take care of.” That was all Vijay Singh told me before we started. He held my hand and took me along. The goddamn dhoti was what I was afraid of; I had three layers of belt – one around my waist and two around my thighs, two jeans and three undies beneath the dhoti just to be sure. 

The first checkpoint we encountered passed off without an incident; Vijay Singh seemed to know all of the guards in person who didn’t bother to break their chai time and signaled us in. Logically there was no reason I should be afraid, Minister Vijay Singh has been coming here for the last 30 years, before that his father had been coming here for 50 years, politics was their family business. Not surprising that he knew all of the people around.

Things went ahead event-free with the next few checkpoints as well. Majority of them put a salaam to Singh and continued with their Chai, a few of the points dint even have guards, a few had guards busy with their rummy sessions, only a few of them actually rose to talk to him – be it about their promotions, or regarding when to pick up Singh’s children for school the next day or the grocery items for his house for the month.

At that time I was thinking to myself “Haha, if this is the deal I could have negotiated for half the price with Vijay Singh”. Just then I was stopped by two Sardars who could have easily passed off as the Great Khali holding two AK-47s which were almost my size. Two German Sheperd’s were tied to the post on the sides that would conveniently be say triple my size or say one-tenth of a Ambani’s son.

I straight jacketed myself sucking all the air ass-up. I could feel all the contractions and every bit of my nerve in the lower half of my body. For a moment it felt like I had succeeded. But I was not fully sure whether I had managed to hold my uneasiness in bowel movement without any solid output to show. Vijay Singh pounced in at the right time to avert any further disaster. He took away one of the Sardars slipped in a 500 Rs note in his pocket and threw a biscuit packet at the dogs.

“I told you not to panic Vikram when I am here. Saala yeh log naya hai isi liye humko rukha tha”. The next few checkpoints the same procedure continued – He would take one of the cops away slip in a 500 Rs note and throw a biscuit packet at the dogs. But Vijay Singh wouldn’t go unless they gave him a proper salute at the end of it all and a ceremonious exit arranged for him. How much was it for him and how much was it for the 500 Rs? But he was least bothered about all that. 

We had reached the last of the inspection gates; Vijay handed over a KFC burger and asked me to sit in the corner as he said this one will take time. I was happy that the ordeal is almost over and I would soon be inside one of the sacred institutions of the Indian government where only a handful of people in India would have ever gone into. Which is why I feel very special and privileged to be..THUD..

The next moment I had the AK-47 on the back of my head, the burger went tumbling across over to where the dogs where. They ripped it apart in seconds as it was their starter and were waiting for the main course bounty. I was soon surrounded by the other cop who brought the other AK-47 right to my face. Vijay Singh tried to plead with the cops to let me go but I could see him reach out for the trigger instead. I squeezed my eyes in as tightly as I could.

And it clicked!!!

There were no doubts about this one. It was neither solid nor liquid, it was in between. I could feel the sensation of a semi-solid substance dripping down my thighs.

I could afford to laugh about it now but had it not been for Shakila Chechi, the German Sheperds would have had a Vikram feast for the night. How can a minister, and that too, a minister of parliamentary affairs be such a big Chutiyaa? He almost got me killed, that Bastard. He had counted the number of checkpoints wrong and had 500 Rs less for the last entry. The cops would have blown my head off hadn’t one of them turned out to be a Mallu.

“The sad thing, Vikram, is I had to give that new Shakila DVD to that cop. This is her latest video, and I got it specially sent from the Kerala chief minister”. His only fucking concern was that his DVD was gone. I had only heard of Shakila once in my life, when my engineering college roomie from Kerala had posters of her all across the room. His name was Jibu Joseph Mathew Kuttan.

“Don’t worry about what happened Vikram – I have transferred those guys already to Chattisgarh. No one watches what’s happening inside. You can move around as freely as you want. Enjoy your time Vikram” I paid up the full installment of 5000 Rs to him and he was off. Finally after an hour of adventure with AK-47s and German Sheperds, I am here inside the PARLIAMENT OF INDIA. Thanks majorly to Shakila

The first look reminded of my engineering college TCS pre-placement talk. A huge gallery auditorium which had a speaker and a few members dispersed across. And there seemed to be no placecom to bring in more people here.  

I was initially skeptical about the anonymity of a stranger like me inside the Parliament, but, I was pleasantly surprised with the hospitality I received. The person next to Vijay Singh’s seat welcomed me as if he knew prior about my arrival. He introduced himself as Panjo Baby Mohanlala Jobimon. He added that he was from Kerala and he got working on his laptop. As if there was every any doubt in my mind that he is from any other state of Dubai.  

I scanned the entire place once. Not even half the number of people would have been present at that point of time – many of them were sleeping with their heads on the table, a few of them were playing temple run, the rest of them were divided between angry birds and stick cricket. Only a very few like Panjo Baby Jobimon sitting next to me were doing something productive like working on the laptop.  Whatever you say, these mallus are one of the most hardworking set of people I have seen.

To believe this was the Parliament of India, the highest institution of governance, attended by the elected representatives of the people was the toughest part for me. And it was after months of hard-work and meeting with the right contacts that I got in touch with the Vijay Singh for this entry. But what would you expect if the parliamentary minister is the prime culprit for selling entry into the parliament to me.

From what I could figure out the motion for passing the food security bill is being discussed. Every 30 seconds a group of ministers would wake up from whatever they were doing to clap their desks in approval of the motion, and at the same time, the remaining set of ministers would boo to express disapproval. Then they would get back to continue with their more important works. None of them had any clue as to what was happening in the house. That’s because coming to the parliament for all these members was just a matter of turning up and clapping or booing whatever was the order of that day.

Panjo Baby Jobimon, though, was generally uninterested in disruption of the session and was fully into his work. That’s when I realized the seat number I was sitting on is 102, which means, the seat next to me is 103. Seat #103. That’s where Sachin Tendulkar sits.

“What are you talking? He will have hundreds of commitments, how can GOD come to the parliament and all? He has not been able to make it for even a single day. That’s how busy GOD is.” Panjo Baby was livid when I asked him why Sachin hasn’t come to the parliament.

GOD it seems. Bloody if he is god why the fuck do you bother him with all these petty things, like nominate him and make him a member of the parliament. This is the GOD-damn problem here; elevate simple human beings to god-level status so you become blind and immune to their errors and frailties. The same servile attitude is prevalent everywhere in life and largely responsible for the biggest evil of these people - sucking up to the party high command. When will these people raise their voices?

I didn’t have to wait long for the answer. There would have been a minimum of hundred cell phones that rang at the exact same time. The leader of the opposition party group stood up to announce 3..2..1. At the count of 1, all of them were inside the well of the house in no time enacting what seemed like a scene from 300. A mix of chairs mikes dhotis flew from end-to-end. Not to be left alone, the ruling party on this side also joined in. Panjo Baby let rip one of his slippers right at the crowd and landed exactly on the speakers head. He wasn’t completed satisfied though. He removed his belt and ran at full speed towards the opposition, Panjo Baby was least concerned where his Dhoti was.   

The entire session of parliament was adjourned for the entire day. It was all part of their bloody plan. I was the only one with no part to play in any of this. I silently walked out before someone could rip my Dhoti apart.

ENTE MONE Jobimon!!! All this while you were doing..Sigh. Same Shakila. Same DVD.

These mallus have to be one of the most HANDWORKING set of people I have seen. 

The Charms of Street Food

There is something about food on the street side that tingles the senses within. A sense of desire, an invitation and a battle of the mind vs. heart. The heart always indicates a want to go, when the mind rules over it. Thanks to the unnecessary sophistication of education, and its emphasis on hygiene. But I know where my heart is, always. Every single time I cross them, they play hell with my blood pressure. Rarely, very rarely, does the heart rule over the mind and I go on to experience the bliss by the road.

If there is always a sense of deep love for food, then for the street food it is an amorous lust in me. There are no menu cards here, nor a starter bus to the destination. Nor does he care about providing any decent ambience  and well-served etiquette. Quiz him about a finger bowl, don't care explain to him, he would most likely sell a lime juice for it and charge you ten bucks for it. I don't get here a foreplay of refined tasting session, nor do I go looking for it. But everytime I get to experience an exasperating journey of a culinary delights that sure leaves me wanting for more..

One of the greatest pleasures for me in having stuff by the road is to see him at work.For sure, he doesn't himself back.If there is a moral dilemma between more and less, for him it's always that one spoon extra. Be it the extra Chaat masala, or the chilly or the butter, it's always that little bit exttraaa. And right through the time watching him at work, I work overload to control that irresistible urge to splurge into it. He sure doesn't operate on a fixed recipe book with teaspoons in it, its his hand-eye coordination that works magic. It's mad. It's beautiful.

The kind of ease with which he goes about his profession invariably draws me into it. I ask him to add more (never less huh) onions/chillies as I fantasize it to be, the kind I will never be comfortable asking him to add more olives in a thin crust pizza. If it has no olives, that's HOW it is supposed to be had. But this chotu on the road is all mine, it's like sitting on a plane in the aisle seat, when the person behind has to accept it for what it is.  

Also, there is an inverse proportionate ratio I find with the quality of the food with the increasing complexity of the place. Like more the similarities between a Punjabi girl with Anuska Sharma before marriage, more the chances of her becoming a mega version of a Mayawati or a Mamata Di. The farther you take the chotu from his neighours from the sty, the faster he becomes proficient in making the Aloo Chaat a Aloo Jat.

There is no greater pleasure than having it at where he has been for the last 5 years, and reliving your childhood when you find a small kid from the tuition carrying an ice cream in his left hand scrambles for the coins with his right for a pani puri. And I don't think there is anything truly rewarding if I manage to get the right amount of people for pani puri, so that I don't have to wait too long till my mouth goes dry, or too less that I still haven't let the tamarind starch my tongue. 

And, if there is one meaningful ban in this country, it is by these people of some utterly useless and pleasure threatening items like a bitter gourd or a raddish. They don't give a damn or pretend to even appease anything apart from your taste buds. There's no recipe of it online, there are no manuals of it, every city has a different taste to the same, every day has a different taste to it. It's not an assembly line at work, it's a human appraisal of delight garlanded with an attitude for the flair. 

When was the last time you truly went out to experience street food? It's just the papyrus that has replaced your nickel preventing you do that. Go on for a nice hop across the streets of your city. You will relive and appreciate countless small things which you've grown blind over.

I just did. Burrrppp

Anushka Sharma vs. Puneeth Rajkumar

Ever since I wrote the last blog post my life has become a mess, a complete mess..Nowadays people don't need a reason to laugh at me, friends get high and put a conf call at 3 in the morning and ask me whether I am in Sales still and non-stop laugh for 2 hours..Bloody have I become such a big laughing stock like Sachin? Just because he has stopped entertaining them, it's me huh??Damn Chutiyas all of them..

If my next door kid doesn't eat, his mom threatens her saying "If you don't eat, you will become like that salesman uncle"..His 5 yr old sister runs away everytime on seeing me..How many times to tell her I am not from Delhi? Po dee Po you will only get only a HR job in future..

My mom who is probably my only source of strength in tough times, said she exactly understand what I was going through in my life and empathized with me..The next day she sends me 5 lungis as birthday gift, and that too those checked mallu type lungis..I mean Lungis just because I am a salesman? The only other place I  have seen those lungis was a stupid mallu college dance ..."Ohhh Sexyy Chechi.." Ente mone!!! Just because Shakila Chechi is from Kerala I din't personally go to kill each one of them..

Fed up of life..Totally..It doesn't happen with my friends in Consulting, IT, or HR (went to the loo puked twice) but only for me salesmen..Ajj if you all are doing proper MBA kinda jobs and I am doing a PUC job..If only I expose you all and what you people do, you'will realize how much deep shit you guys are all in..

In fact, let me do that only..Once for all, do a naked expose of you all..Weak-hearted people can close the page at this point or read ahead at you own risk..

Consulting:

The biggest Chutiyas of the lot, definitely without doubt..If only you ask them where they work, with a touch of arrogance and achievement you get the response "Consulting Firm"..Firm it seems, othaaa..Basically, my job requires an in-depth analysis of the procurement of high-class manure from domesticated animals and executing a cost-benefit analysis of in-house development vs outsourcing the needs from a strategic long term objective of meeting the target expectations of 20% ROI in 5 years for a foreign firm.."That word firm only pisses me off..

That project would be for some Kenyan company who requires some cheap ass cow dung from India..For this these buggers will prepare 150 slide presentation with the recommendation - 'Cow dung is green in colour, so its a natural product"..Do you people know that your client will never read that report or you make the report knowing that only?

Why do you need to wear suits for this you tell me? And inside that Red colour Rupa Frontline Banian..Aiyoo Aiyoo..Enda little bit class also you people don't know aah da?

There is a line where truth ends and your insulting begins..


IT:


Fellow brothers are the most humble of the entire lot..In fact, you don't even need to provoke them, just ask them about their jobs and you will be sponsored 7 RC large, 2 Antiquity Blue and 1 BP..If only you can listen to their stories about how they had a manage 5 emails at the same time, talk to an on-site client at 8 in the morning, and how he is one of the 1000 critical resources for the project..Young talented Rahane kind of people constantly waiting for some 35 yr old's to retire..And those people in their companies are not even like Sachin who retires when the time is right, plus or plus 5 years..

Although the general chutiya ratings of these people are lower than other jobs, there is a small clan of people in IT who calls themselves as IT consultants, thereby increasing their CC (Chutiya Count) to a higher side..The moment people tries to use consultancy to their roles, their CC automatically goes up and when they call themselves working in a firm it goes to a higher pitch than our Yo Yo Singhhu...

If not for a minority set of IT consultants, this clan has wonderfully grounded set of people, that they travel only Kingfisher..They also acknowledge the fact that SHIT happens..I'm Sorry..IT happens..

HR:

Contrary to what people might think, HR is one of the most important set of people..(Computer hangs up for 2 hours, infected with unobjectionable content which was entered) I mean the other day, when my fan wasn't working, they set it right, They announce all the festivals in different innovative colors, pass on lunch coupons to employees, arrange hotel/travel arrangements, organize new unheard of games like Dumb-C on Fun Fridays..Sometimes they also have blinking letters in mails, which I feel is a wonderful way to break out of the clutter of emails..

To think that a function has such cross-functional requirements and requires such diverse skill-sets, and to excel at it is beyond me..Respect Plain Respect..(Not for the bloody guys who spoil the sanctity of that skill sets that role demands..I can understand girls have that dumbness in them, but why you da??)


Now only happy..Sigh..Take it bloody all for all the laughing..Run and hide your face, but where will you guys go..If my sales brethern are given a massage by Anushka Sharma in a third rate village, you get served porridge spoon fed by Puneeth Rajkumar in a five star hotel..Haha take that on your face..