Conversation Starters

It all starts with a conversation. A casual 'What's up' followed by a friendly, 'Where's your lunch?'. With a concerned 'Are you okay?' when things go tough. Before you know it, you are talking about life, love and all things heavy. Yes, conversations are the starters, but the best of them happen when no words are involved. When the actions are so vocal, that words become silent. Such conversations are like codes, to be deciphered only by those for whom they are intended.

Crazy Stalker

Do you have a crazy obsessed stalker who cannot take 'No' for an answer, gets all touchy-feely when you handle them firmly and does not want to let go of you, even at odd hours?
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You do, if you are in Creative.
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They are called 'Servicing'.

When Evil is Stupid

If you are trying to manipulate people, at least make sure they don't see through you.

Else it makes you seem like a complete idiot.

Long Drive

Drops of poetry trickle down my brief
My mind goes on a long drive

As the sweet sweet rain drenches my soul.

OMG

The Lord personally descends upon earth every time an atheist whispers, "OMG".

What Long Meetings Teach You

# How to sleep with your eyes open
# How to yawn with your mouth closed
# How to pretend to be interested.

Crossing Paths

'Buddy, hey Buddy, you alive?' Joe whispered under his breath.
'Not for long', Buddy replied slowly. His voice was low, his breathing heavy. 
'You gotta listen to me man, make a run for it'. Joe kicked Buddy with his short fat legs.
Buddy winced under the pain. 'Don't be stupid. I can't even see. I only hear the rhythm of the death machine, coming closer and closer'. 
His voice was resigned. He had accepted his faith. Joe was annoyed.
'Don't chicken out, man. All you need to do is to hop over and cross the road. And you'll be free'.
As his buddy let out a sigh, Joe realised it was a gasp. The indifferent machine had routinely sliced through Buddy's heart and trimmed him into neatly-cut nuggets.
Just like that, his life was over.
It was Joe's turn now.

Size L

Size L then- Large
Size L now- Loose

Stars Below

Twinkling stars
Travelling stars
Static stars
Halogen stars
A starry town comes to life 
At night.
Hopes and dreams
Lend their wings
As this town softly glows.
As I watch this sleepy town come to life
14000 feet below.

Lose Weight Now!

Do people sneer at you for taking up extra space in buses? Is your life spent roaming from mall to mall trying to find clothes of your size? Are you worried that you might end up becoming a football? Not to worry, now lose weight in just 4 weeks. No medication, no exercise, no operation. Register at my PG today. The food is enough to put you off eating for a long period of time.

Tahir Shah in Haryana!

I saw Eye To Eye - Tahir Shah in the market today. With lush locks falling down his face, he sprang up and down and spoke in a distinct Haryanvi accent. Gazing admiringly, I wondered how it would be if he were to sing Eye to Eye North Indian isshtyle.

Wise Men

Oh Beauty, you heartless creature!
You snigger and sneer
As wise men make a fool of themselves
With the most banal of jokes
In your august presence.
All so your face lights up
With the enlivening smile
That strikes their erratic hearts.

It is true what they say,
Beauty has long played folly with wisdom.
But only the wisdom of men, they forgot to mention.
For the hearts of men, even the wise ones
Are governed by the beats of an organ far down
That not cares for intelligence or dumb sarcasm.

Monkeying Around

Emergency has been declared in my PG. The doors and windows have been tightly shut; the valuables safely tucked away. Solemn Nepali faces stand huddled together outside, determined to protect the building and its inhabitants. As the impending doom draws near, everyone waits with bated breath.

It's time. The monkeys have arrived.

The Sing-Song Virus

There's a dangerous virus doing the rounds of wintry North India. Deadlier than the Dengue, more contagious than the cold, it will strike you when you least expect it. It spreads by air and prolonged contact with those infected. Till now, prevention is the only cure. But patients show no outward symptoms, thus making it difficult to quarantine them. Except one thing. If you find a loved one humming a Honey Singh number, beware. Maintain a minimum of 5 feet distance, use ear plugs and contact the nearest government asylum. Or you could be next.

P.S: Status inspired after I caught myself humming a Singh-song unawares. :-/

The Camel that spoke like Robert De Niro

The Meeting 

As I trudged along the tormented path overwhelmed with briefs, a stoic smiling face caught my gaze.

'If this bothers you sweetheart, just imagine being burdened by idiots all day', said the pet camel at the Bikanervala restaurant, in a curious Robert De Niro voice.

'Why yes, Mr. Camel, I don't know how you do it. Why not just kick them?' I looked at those wide-set pair of eyes, serene, always smiling. He was chewing the end of a Cuban cigarette.

'Gotta pay the bills sweetheart, everyone's gotta pay the bills', he said, his voice hoarse, his chewing incessant.

Right then, a potbellied Sardarji with two gleeful children stopped in front of him. 'Well, that's me', Mr. Camel wrapped up the conversation, as he threw the end of his cigarette in the cold February air, wiped his mouth with polished hooves and gave a million dollar smile, that dazzled with a set of perfect white teeth.

'You'd look better with a hat, Mr. De Niro', I thought as I walked back home, contemplating the burdens of mankind.

The Observation

There is an open parking lot below my office. On lazy afternoons, Mr. Camel lies there, by the shade of a few inconspicuous trees. Chewing and gazing at the direction of the pet horse nearby. Always smiling. I have often wondered whether he is enlightened or just psychotic. May be there isn't much of a difference between the two.

Today as a couple got on him, and he lazily strolled across the parking lot of indifferent cars, a driver began playing 'Tamanchey pe Disco'. Suddenly, Mr. Camel neighed. And as the lone horse in the distance looked up in confusion, he jumped up with two hooves in the air, shaking his hump to the beat of the song.

The couple sat petrified while the mahout ran screaming.
But neither the obligation of the job, nor the yelling of his boss could stop Mr. Camel anymore.
He was finally free.
Or was he?

Tough Life

Life must be tough for pigs. Imagine wetting your nose every time you try to drink water.

The Chirp

I tried to call out to her but with the straw sticking out of my mouth, only a muffled sound came out. Where was she? I saw an eagle flying in the distance. Wings outstretched, it spiralled round and round, reminding me of the poem by Mr. Yeats. 'Darling, can you hear me?' I finally chirped aloud, causing to drop the straw. Oh boy, the nest will just have to wait, I mused as I flew to a nearby pole.

Running Rat

Eventually, the rat got tired of running. Panting, he sat down and began wiping his face with a moist cloth.

'So, you got something for me yet, lady?' The poor rodent squeaked at me.

Looking up from the Book of Idioms, I replied quietly, 'Rug rat, rat race...rats abandoning a sinking ship....nah..nothing, sorry'. 

'Your fault. Why is it that 'rats running in a stomach' sounds perfectly fine in the vernaculars but so odd in English?'

'Why indeed?' I thought to myself.

'And you...you agreed to write it in English..why couldn't you put up the status in some vernacular language, where it is perfectly fine to have innocent rats run up and down the length of your stomach?'

'Umm... My readers are from an extensive language base...' I said importantly.

'Why should us rats suffer for the limitations of English'? He squealed.

'You are right....' I was hungry and Mr. Rat was tired of running in my stomach. We shared nibbles of my last cream biscuits and quietly wondered on the dilemma of transcreating idioms in a foreign language.

My Tablet Saga

17th August, 11:30 pm

My client is on my ass for a clump of articles that I have been promising for the past month or so. I gulp my dinner and finally sit down to finish them off. All I need is 2 hours of uninterrupted silence so that she leaves me in peace for the next few days.

I know, I know, I have been procrastinating but there was much to do in office. That ass of a boss, Malhotra has been keeping me on my heels for the last few weeks and I couldn’t be seen doing freelance work there! I need the money so I can buy myself a proper laptop. Plus, the tablet “could do light work”, the girl at the electronics store had said. All I needed was to type in a few hundred words.

11:40 pm

I switch on my tab. Or rather, try to. I have been pressing the ‘Switch’ button for the past couple of minutes. Nothing. Dear Lord, please help. I paid 15K for this tablet and it’s not even been a month! Of course I could call their customer support; I called them the last time. They sent me a long email citing technicalities I did not understand. I press the button hard another time.

“Zzzzz”, the tab groans back to life. I sigh and get back to work.

12:00 am

I have 5 tabs open in my browser. I need to consult various websites for writing. But as soon as I open one of those tabs, everything I had typed in the other tab vanishes. Like magic!

‘No, no, no, no, no, no……”, I scream, “Come back, come back, back, back”, I cry out in terror. I had pressed ’Save’, but where did all the data go? Luckily I remember most of what I had written and I am able to reconstruct it. Well, somewhat. But the keyboard is hung. I type and type, nothing happens. So I wait patiently while the tab takes a nap, like a lazy pot-bellied government officer. After about 5 minutes, the words appear. There are spaces where I had not put any. Is my tablet possessed?

But no time to think of it now, my client just messaged me on my phone asking about the articles. The exorcism will just have to wait till another time.

I finish the articles and press ‘Send’, all the while chanting prayers. Thankfully, my tablet doesn’t throw any more fits.

18th August, 7:00 pm

So Tanya said she had uploaded our photos on Facebook. Even asked me to check what Rohan had commented. Something about my hair. Dimply curly-haired Rohan? About my hair? I can’t wait. As I throw my bag on the bed and take out my tablet, I am bursting with excitement. I unlock it and…unlock it and…unlock…why wouldn’t the darn thing unlock? I slide the ‘Lock’ symbol again and again but nothing happens. Damn you, silly tab, I could be in a smart-ass comment thread flirting with my love interest right now if not for you!

I throw the dumb tool on the bed and grumpily watch Arnab screaming his guts out. Someone should put my tab and its makers on that show. Would serve them right.

19th August, 3:00 pm

I logged into Facebook during lunch today. So Rohan likes my hair, hmm.  I wonder how I will wear it in the next office party. May be I’ll part it to the right. Or no parting at all. “So Miss Dasgupta”, a voice booms from behind, “Where are we on the content requirements?”.  

I almost fall off the chair as my arch nemesis, the Amrish Puri to my love story, the Voldemort to my Hogwarts: my boss, asks cheerily. “Client to revert”, I gasp as I barely close the window.

“By the way, nice hair”, the voice of Doom smiles before wandering off to the far side, presumably towards the direction of Rohan’s desk. Rohan’s desk! That cheeky devil. Reason why I never surf Facebook in office. Thank Heavens; he’s not on my friends’ list. Even so, he has now seen Rohan’s comment.

I need to be more careful.

And get my tab fixed. Today.

7:00 pm

“Madamji, hum sirf laptop aur computer thik karte hain”, the shopkeeper says in his heavy Haryanvi accent.

“Kar dijiye na bhaiyya, please?” The desperation in my voice is apparent.

He pulls open the rear cover of the machine and fidgets with a pin. If my tablet could feel, it would be feeling a lot of things right now. And it would know better than to ever cross me again.

As if it could actually hear me, my tablet trudges back to life. I swear I haven’t been this happy since my dentist fractured his hand in 2006.

I check my mail. Rohan has just sent me a PDF file. The subject: For You. I download the attachment but it won’t open. I try a variety of software programmes, even download the Adobe Reader but apparently, my tablet is too snobbish. At this point, the only thing keeping me from throwing the tablet away on the dusty roadside is the faith that someday, all of this will make sense. And of course, the obscene amount of money I paid for it.

I call their Customer Support again. They ask me to bring it to their nearest service centre. Which is 2 hours away.  I don’t have the time.

They have sent me a mail again. A longer one, this time.

As I begin to read it, my tablet shoots a warning sign. 4% battery left. 4%? Impossible. I haven’t even used the tablet for 2 days. But, even though it was hung over, the battery was ‘on’. So the power has depleted even though I haven’t used it.The tablet reminds me of a pet elephant; it takes more than it gives. Much, much more.

All I want is a tablet that will not die down on me. Is it too much to ask for a decent battery life even when all you use, consist of Whatsapp and Chrome? Here’s a revolutionary thing for a tablet to do: reading documents!

And when a tablet has aced these basic functions in an overcrowded but below-average Indian tab market, I’ll think of outrageous things to do.

Like illustrating ideas. An orangutan smoking cigarettes, a cat flying, a fish sitting on a tree branch, a chihuahua taking on a great dane.

And checking mail in the crowded Bandra local. And while taking showers. (You never know when an important notification might come up!)

I want a tablet that can do freaking handstands. Because really, why would you need a cumbersome keyboard when the best things come in small packages? And of course, it would help to have a stand mode for the recipes when I'm being the next Nigella in kitchen. I wouldn't want to serve ham in plum cake again.

I want to be able to lay my tablet down, without bothering about the sleek screen the next time nosy Sarita Aunty decides to sneak a peek at the community gala. (So I am a bit of a showoff, sue me.)

It would also be amazing if I could click photographs while skydiving. (Why not?)

From what I hear, the new Lenovo Yoga Tablet is pretty kickass at each of these things. Three modes, the stand, tilt and hold make it a versatile user-friendly machine. Coupled with a good battery life, the Android 4.2 Jelly Bean OS, a 1.2GHz quad-core processor and Dolby enhanced speakers, this tablet is a power-packed toy of fire. I was going through www.facebook.com/LenovoIndia and the discussions there seemed pretty interesting. Lots of people, same as me, totally clueless and disappointed with their tablets have found this a fun forum to share their woes and queries with the Lenovo team giving prompt replies.

I wish I could teach my tablet to read and aspire to be more 'yogic'. Sigh. It might be late for me, but as they say in 'Yoga', 'never lose sight of hope'.

On Occasion

As I stand lazily soaking in the winter sun, I see a monkey in the distant roof, doing the same. A closer inspection reveals a Ma monkey followed by one-two baby monkeys, with another monkey chilling in someone's balcony. 'Hee...bador bador', I gleefully observe. The Ma monkey then climbs down the grill, just like Spiderman. The young ones follow suit to join their Chacha (I'm guessing) in the neighbouring balcony.

Still giggling, I come down the stairs to find a wolf strolling about, in the guise of a dog. It seems to have enough fur to shield the neighbourhood for the winter. I share biscuits with the dumb blackie but those 5 biscuits vanish before hitting the floor. Finding I have no more biscuits to offer, it now decides to settle for the next best thing.

It begins to wag its bushy tail, I pat it a little. Two pats, and the wolf seeks to climb till my shoulder, like a chipku guy. 'Durey thako, durey thako', I order the wolf which probably weighs more than me. It calms down but still keeps on looking through the iron grills long after I have closed the gate.

I go back to shoot the monkeys on the roof but they have long since vanished. So I shoot the next best thing: Myself.

Gurgaon is a chiriyakhana. I like it.