And since it was a saturday, I looked forward to my email eagerly, hoping that someone might invite me for a party. Surprisingly, since I had been relatively illness-free for a long period of time, an invite awaited me - from WHO and the Pharma Council of india. An invitation to interview Bird Flu at the social diseased party of the year at the garbage dump in Worli near Love Grove Sewer.
And since I couldnt refuse, I got togged up in a cotton suit, and tie and trudged along to the party.
To my surprise, the who's who of the illness world had shown up in all their splendour - Chicken Pox, Jaundice, Cholera, Typhoid, Malaria, Dengue Fever and even Leptospirosis had arrived, looking their virulent best, cloistered with their own pet patients. Evidently nobody wanted to be left out on the arrival of Bird Flu on the global stage. Chronic party crashers like Spondilitis, Arthritis, Rheumatism, Asthma, and Obesity had turned up (some even sitting together on a single patient?!), and were seen hero worshipping the industry bigwigs like AIDS, Cancer, Angina, Heart Blockage, and Renal Failure who was hanging around by the bar sipping on Hapless Mortals and Unknown Patients, counting out his pending dialysis sittings and sipping his blood nervously looking around.
Just as the party began losing steam, and the patients started recovering, Bird Flu walked in, like a giant cake being brought in - with Glaxo, Cipla, Ranbaxy, and SKB trailing behind like sycophants, applauding as Bird Flu made it's way towards the dais.
As Bird Flu walked, rumours and murmurs flew about the kind of growth he had accomplished in such a short time, and how with just a few deaths, Bird Flu had grown in stature to an international epidemic. About how skilfully it had operated and the beautiful coup de grace it delivered to unready administrations. About where it had struck so far - Far East, USA, Europe and now India. Sicknesses whispered, "it was only a matter of time before he came to India - with such a large population and consumer base, it would have been hara-kiri to ignore the indian public.
In a corner of the party, sat a small bent deformed demented person, who called himself small pox sat quietly, sipping on a cheap bowl of soup and crackers. Illnesses whispered that he'd blown up the machines to get out. And that IAF had been red in the face trying to deny the stray case and that small pox and its head honchos had been passe - eradicated by the health police for years.
I shouldered my way across the dance floor where Dettol was dancing the forbidden dance of disinfection - alluring but untouchable, and walked towards where Bird Flu was chatting with the health minister, and Cipla's CMD. I coughed quietly to attract its attention, and Bird Flu turned around to greet me as if I was a long lost old pal. "Arre, Its great to finally meet the disease free Utekkare! so you are here to share in my moment of triumph when I will spell disaster for the Indian chicken industry! You shall see me raise Ranbaxy from its recent debacle in UK and USA, you shall see Cipla ride this wave of grief to greater profits, and you will see the Indians eat more fish than ever before - until the government eats Turkey and makes the medicine / vaccines subsidised... Then I shall turn my attention to some other countries!" All this time, AIDS and Cancer sniggered - since they were atleast uncurables - and would never be out of business no matter how subsidised their medicines were... Let this johnny-come-lately hog the limelight for now.. We are the real killers and we will never be out of favour...
Bird Flur continued to crow about his waxing zenith of his powers... about how the chicken farmers lobby had come to his doorstep to negotiate an agreement - and requested him to bypass India. He said that he wouldnt have infected India if they hadnt reneged on the deal to offer him unlimited access to the chickens in Africa...
And all I could think of was why only Chickens? Why not these stupid pestilential common crows???? And so I asked him, why not crows? After all these creatures were everywhere and could spread the disease much faster than a clucking chicken...
Suddenly there was pin drop silence. Bird Flu turned slowly and the color drained from his face.. He lifted one wing and slapped me across the face. "Dobara mat puchna!!!! Damn fool!" and he turned away.
Malaria and Jaundice took me by the hand and threw me out of the party. I walked home, replaying the events over in my head, thinking that maybe it was for the best and that I have had the opportunity to get close to these diseases.. without getting infected.
As I turned into the dark lane leading to my home, Common Cold, along with Body Ache, Cough, and and Head Ache and Runny Nose jumped out of the darkness and threw me down. As they infected me, they screamed,"That'll teach you to suck up to foreign illnesses.. We demand Poorna Swadeshi!!!!"
utekkare,
Pranay
Friday, February 24, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
The Human Body - A user manual
Dear Consumer Spirit,
Thank you for choosing a human body as your preferred means of travel in this specific astral period of travel. As a discerning source of living energy and as a committed traveller of the 3 worlds spanning many millennia, we are pleased that you felt a human body would best propel forward your journey towards Nirvana.
We have a superiorly evolved Human Body series - product name Homo Sapiens series 2006. It has been perfected through trial and error over millions of centuries, and has been subtly refined to what it is today. Ofcourse, we continue to keep ourselves updated in the field of research and if we find superior refinements required we shall update the human shell - But this is a time consuming process and we do conduct experiments with product launches some of which fail, while other succeed. We like to term these as deformities until properly patented and replicable. Examples include hyperextension of elbows to promote off-spin bowling / fast bowling in Cricket, increase bodily hair to resemble bears, sharper reflexes to counter growing requirements of international espionage / terrorism, superior recognition software in the brain functions to aid quicker development, and earlier participation in adult activities.
Now, we would like to introduce you to the key features of this human shell you have decided to purchase for your astral journey.
1. Brain: Showing massive reconfiguration, we have interpolated the thought and action areas, and seperated the grey and white cortical masses. We have provided superb cushioning for the sensitive parts of the brain, and have encased in a titanium equivalent of enmeshed boneplate built covering called the skull. Often used as the symbol of evil and power when combined with 2 rather rudimentary crossbones, these skulls usually survive the harshest of injuries unless treated with utter disdain. We have tried and tested these skulls and we can proudly say that they come with a lifetime warranty. If these should be split or cracked or broken in the course of regular use during this astral journey, we will replace this human shell FREE OF COST with a second human shell in your next astral life.
The human brain is state of the art and is completely filled with features to make your life a living wonder of ease :-
- Unlimited Memory storage (limited by only your imagination!),
- Ease of compartmentalisation (imagine the processing power of a million supercomputers at your disposal!),
contd
Thank you for choosing a human body as your preferred means of travel in this specific astral period of travel. As a discerning source of living energy and as a committed traveller of the 3 worlds spanning many millennia, we are pleased that you felt a human body would best propel forward your journey towards Nirvana.
We have a superiorly evolved Human Body series - product name Homo Sapiens series 2006. It has been perfected through trial and error over millions of centuries, and has been subtly refined to what it is today. Ofcourse, we continue to keep ourselves updated in the field of research and if we find superior refinements required we shall update the human shell - But this is a time consuming process and we do conduct experiments with product launches some of which fail, while other succeed. We like to term these as deformities until properly patented and replicable. Examples include hyperextension of elbows to promote off-spin bowling / fast bowling in Cricket, increase bodily hair to resemble bears, sharper reflexes to counter growing requirements of international espionage / terrorism, superior recognition software in the brain functions to aid quicker development, and earlier participation in adult activities.
Now, we would like to introduce you to the key features of this human shell you have decided to purchase for your astral journey.
1. Brain: Showing massive reconfiguration, we have interpolated the thought and action areas, and seperated the grey and white cortical masses. We have provided superb cushioning for the sensitive parts of the brain, and have encased in a titanium equivalent of enmeshed boneplate built covering called the skull. Often used as the symbol of evil and power when combined with 2 rather rudimentary crossbones, these skulls usually survive the harshest of injuries unless treated with utter disdain. We have tried and tested these skulls and we can proudly say that they come with a lifetime warranty. If these should be split or cracked or broken in the course of regular use during this astral journey, we will replace this human shell FREE OF COST with a second human shell in your next astral life.
The human brain is state of the art and is completely filled with features to make your life a living wonder of ease :-
- Unlimited Memory storage (limited by only your imagination!),
- Ease of compartmentalisation (imagine the processing power of a million supercomputers at your disposal!),
contd
Sunday, February 12, 2006
To the right of what is Left.
I wanted to understand whether it was better being a capitalist or a communist.
So I went to the rally conducted by one of our very illustrious left-party leaders. It was the CPI or the CPI(M) - I cannot remember which. The sickle and the star were everywhere and it blurred my currently myopic vision somewhat.
I reached the venue, and it turned out to be a huge rally. Security goondas for the party had gone to nearby villages and had returned with truckloads of hapless mortals to attend this rally. However, they were superb actors, and raised their hands on cue, and screamed "ki jai" on cue and never dropped the ball. Superb. Just superb.
And I waited to hear the leader talk about communism. I waited to hear them talk about common ownership of the means of production. And a stateless lawful society. And a means to eradicate poverty. And a means to stop corruption. And a way to serve the poor and the homeless and the illiterate to stand on their own feet.
And I waited to hear about the rationalising of labour laws. And about increasing India's footprint in the global world. And about pushing reforms forward. And creating jobs for more people by concentrating on Infrastructure. Like Telecom. Like Roads. Like Airports. Like Pipelines. And waterways. And electricity. And pollution control. And cleaning up our rivers. And our lakes. And our seas. And I waited to hear about competing against the best of the world. And winning. And making our competitive edge better. And about boosting revenues by intelligence, not blind stumbling. About reducing expenditure. And corruption. Destroying corruption and the malaise that fills our system. From top to bottom. And about revamping all those babus that eat the 80% of the 100% sanction and why only 15-20% percent works.
And I waited to hear about strengthening our people's resolve to fight back against terrorism. And bigotry. And oppression. And about building out opportunities for the common man to earn his daily bread. Earn it.
And I waited to hear about a stable government. And a stable decision making parliament. And I waited to hear about support. Not puppet strings.
But I heard about Aanganwadis, and Balwadis, and free handouts, and rerationing food to villagers. And I heard about free power. And more load shedding. And load shedding in Mumbai. And I heard about Worker unions. And strikes. and rasta rokos. And vile and juvenile rebukes aimed about just about anyone.
I heard about government sponsored insurance companies. And road building companies. And I heard about unused MP's funds. And about airport refurbishments. And about evil stock markets. And about no disinvestment. And about choosing what is right for our country from within. And not aping the west.
And I also heard about their angst towards George W Bush. And USA. and UK. and Italy. And their friendship with the erstwhile Soviet Union. And Iran. and Iraq.
And I heard about introducing inheritance tax, and a special tax on rich special consumption. And I heard about widening FBT. And about how foreign scandinavian countries have adopted the foreign tax. And about how rationalising Drawback incentives. And how to mop up another 45,000-50,000 crore.
And the leader then ended the speech by warning that a tug of the strings was all that this government would need to collapse.
Then he got off the podium. He got into a BMW 7 series, while talking on a NOkia 9500 communicator. He took off his neta topi as he sat in the car. The faintest words I could here was :Buy Infosys and hold till the markets start dropping.
I smiled to myself and left.
utekkare,
Pranay
So I went to the rally conducted by one of our very illustrious left-party leaders. It was the CPI or the CPI(M) - I cannot remember which. The sickle and the star were everywhere and it blurred my currently myopic vision somewhat.
I reached the venue, and it turned out to be a huge rally. Security goondas for the party had gone to nearby villages and had returned with truckloads of hapless mortals to attend this rally. However, they were superb actors, and raised their hands on cue, and screamed "ki jai" on cue and never dropped the ball. Superb. Just superb.
And I waited to hear the leader talk about communism. I waited to hear them talk about common ownership of the means of production. And a stateless lawful society. And a means to eradicate poverty. And a means to stop corruption. And a way to serve the poor and the homeless and the illiterate to stand on their own feet.
And I waited to hear about the rationalising of labour laws. And about increasing India's footprint in the global world. And about pushing reforms forward. And creating jobs for more people by concentrating on Infrastructure. Like Telecom. Like Roads. Like Airports. Like Pipelines. And waterways. And electricity. And pollution control. And cleaning up our rivers. And our lakes. And our seas. And I waited to hear about competing against the best of the world. And winning. And making our competitive edge better. And about boosting revenues by intelligence, not blind stumbling. About reducing expenditure. And corruption. Destroying corruption and the malaise that fills our system. From top to bottom. And about revamping all those babus that eat the 80% of the 100% sanction and why only 15-20% percent works.
And I waited to hear about strengthening our people's resolve to fight back against terrorism. And bigotry. And oppression. And about building out opportunities for the common man to earn his daily bread. Earn it.
And I waited to hear about a stable government. And a stable decision making parliament. And I waited to hear about support. Not puppet strings.
But I heard about Aanganwadis, and Balwadis, and free handouts, and rerationing food to villagers. And I heard about free power. And more load shedding. And load shedding in Mumbai. And I heard about Worker unions. And strikes. and rasta rokos. And vile and juvenile rebukes aimed about just about anyone.
I heard about government sponsored insurance companies. And road building companies. And I heard about unused MP's funds. And about airport refurbishments. And about evil stock markets. And about no disinvestment. And about choosing what is right for our country from within. And not aping the west.
And I also heard about their angst towards George W Bush. And USA. and UK. and Italy. And their friendship with the erstwhile Soviet Union. And Iran. and Iraq.
And I heard about introducing inheritance tax, and a special tax on rich special consumption. And I heard about widening FBT. And about how foreign scandinavian countries have adopted the foreign tax. And about how rationalising Drawback incentives. And how to mop up another 45,000-50,000 crore.
And the leader then ended the speech by warning that a tug of the strings was all that this government would need to collapse.
Then he got off the podium. He got into a BMW 7 series, while talking on a NOkia 9500 communicator. He took off his neta topi as he sat in the car. The faintest words I could here was :Buy Infosys and hold till the markets start dropping.
I smiled to myself and left.
utekkare,
Pranay
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Things I will never do
And today when I did things I had promised I would never do, like going to Siddhivinayak, and turning my cell phone off, and bragging about a vacation to Mauritius and chatting in the middle of the day, and talking about my brother's girlfriend, I will talk about things I will never do:
Like feeling superior when a small boy comes up and begs. Like shaving with a shaving brush, and Palmolive Shaving Cream and a Gillette Razor. Like walking up to make friends with strange women in nightclubs. Like asking strange women "would you like to make friendship with me?". Like going to first day first show. Like spending 35,000 bucks on the newest latest cell phone. Like going to Singapore (or Malaysia or Thailand or Mauritius) for a holiday. Like going to a stadium to watch a cricket match. Like going anywhere to watch a football or hockey match. Like travelling to Virar (or Vasai or Naigaon). Like walking upto Siddhivinayak.
Like getting a suit stitched to my size. Like getting anything stitched to wear. Like wearing ultraviolet hair gel. Like wearing yellow trousers. Like wearing white shoes. Like wearing sunglasses in a gym. Like "pumping" weights in the gym for 4 hours straight. Like parading myself in front of an actor's house. Even Amitabh Bachchan's house.
Like marry a Gujarati. Like liking to eat karela. Like live in Dahisar. or Mira Road. or Kalyan. or Kasara. Like own a farmhouse.
And things I will never be able to do:
Like make friends with Abhisheik Bachchan. Like play the guitar. Like drive a car. Like take a day off to go attend a writing workshop. Like take a 'sabbatical'.
Like start a film project or write a film script or a film anything.
Like writing a good script for Darna Mana Hai. Like remembering to use the proper figures of speech and use the dots and commas and full stops where they are supposed to be used in a poem; a story; a script; a sentence. etc etc. Like win a music quiz. Like win a bollywood quiz.
And things that will never happen to me:
Like inheriting a lot of money from someone I never knew. Like receiving a love letter written in some deewani's blood. Like owning a make-up van. Like being asked to sing on screen. or off it. or being asked to do a voice over. or to dub for someone. or to scream "I love the Globus Sale" on radio. and expect to be paid for it. Like winning a prize for answering 3 correct questions on Sholay. or Deewar. or Golmaal. Like having children sitting on a sofa next to me on a stage with a large backdrop at my own reception. Like sitting on a horse for my marriage.
more later,
utekkare,
pranay
Like feeling superior when a small boy comes up and begs. Like shaving with a shaving brush, and Palmolive Shaving Cream and a Gillette Razor. Like walking up to make friends with strange women in nightclubs. Like asking strange women "would you like to make friendship with me?". Like going to first day first show. Like spending 35,000 bucks on the newest latest cell phone. Like going to Singapore (or Malaysia or Thailand or Mauritius) for a holiday. Like going to a stadium to watch a cricket match. Like going anywhere to watch a football or hockey match. Like travelling to Virar (or Vasai or Naigaon). Like walking upto Siddhivinayak.
Like getting a suit stitched to my size. Like getting anything stitched to wear. Like wearing ultraviolet hair gel. Like wearing yellow trousers. Like wearing white shoes. Like wearing sunglasses in a gym. Like "pumping" weights in the gym for 4 hours straight. Like parading myself in front of an actor's house. Even Amitabh Bachchan's house.
Like marry a Gujarati. Like liking to eat karela. Like live in Dahisar. or Mira Road. or Kalyan. or Kasara. Like own a farmhouse.
And things I will never be able to do:
Like make friends with Abhisheik Bachchan. Like play the guitar. Like drive a car. Like take a day off to go attend a writing workshop. Like take a 'sabbatical'.
Like start a film project or write a film script or a film anything.
Like writing a good script for Darna Mana Hai. Like remembering to use the proper figures of speech and use the dots and commas and full stops where they are supposed to be used in a poem; a story; a script; a sentence. etc etc. Like win a music quiz. Like win a bollywood quiz.
And things that will never happen to me:
Like inheriting a lot of money from someone I never knew. Like receiving a love letter written in some deewani's blood. Like owning a make-up van. Like being asked to sing on screen. or off it. or being asked to do a voice over. or to dub for someone. or to scream "I love the Globus Sale" on radio. and expect to be paid for it. Like winning a prize for answering 3 correct questions on Sholay. or Deewar. or Golmaal. Like having children sitting on a sofa next to me on a stage with a large backdrop at my own reception. Like sitting on a horse for my marriage.
more later,
utekkare,
pranay
Monday, February 06, 2006
Monday blues
11:55 AM: Just walked into office. We just have to get into a routine. Wake up at 7, reach Gym by 7.30, come home by 9.00, get ready for office by 9.45, reach office by 10.30 work till 2.30, eat lunch, work till 7.30, come home by 8.15, watch tv and work till 9.30, eat dinner, and collapse by 10.00.
hmm, sounds good. but what about all those US buyers you need to kiss ass with. Im sure they can wait. After all the routine should be god, right.
irfan pathan is out, tendulkar is doing his best to get out, but why dont these pakistani bowlers understand that? all they need to do is bowl legitimate deliveries around his knee roll and hey presto, one less indian legend to worry about.
peshawar is such an amazing word. it conjures up images of john rambo, the CIA, the plain of 4 lions, 5 rivers, 6 pathans, and women who get married into harems.
wish i could write a book on peshawar and the life and times of the affluent and not so affluent living and working there
sort of like a diary. but i need to be white skinned and rich for that, i suppose.
hmm, sounds good. but what about all those US buyers you need to kiss ass with. Im sure they can wait. After all the routine should be god, right.
irfan pathan is out, tendulkar is doing his best to get out, but why dont these pakistani bowlers understand that? all they need to do is bowl legitimate deliveries around his knee roll and hey presto, one less indian legend to worry about.
peshawar is such an amazing word. it conjures up images of john rambo, the CIA, the plain of 4 lions, 5 rivers, 6 pathans, and women who get married into harems.
wish i could write a book on peshawar and the life and times of the affluent and not so affluent living and working there
sort of like a diary. but i need to be white skinned and rich for that, i suppose.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Sunday ka Gyaan - Pranay ki zubaani
And so here I am again on a Sunday double poster (borrowed from the NBA ishtyle double header). Some new points of observation and comment. Also some thoughts for food and intelligent sentences.
Like Narayan Rane should never be allowed to be made Chief Minister. He will make all the bar girls to be re-elected from their constituency, and the national symbol for the Congress will be made a chicken. Gade murge ukhadne nahin chahiye.
Black Horse Festival is on. So is Siddhi Vinayak Maghi Mahotsav. So is One Tree Music Festival. I wonder if I will make it to any of these. Just like I wondered if I would make it to the Banganga festival, the Mumbai festival, the Shopping festival, the Diwali festival, the M.F.Hussain festival, the Upper Classes art festival, the Middle Classes Ambarnath local bhajan festival, and the Shivaji Mitra Mandal carom festival. But I didnt make it to any of those.
Like this is one of those free Sundays there is never a Caferati readmeet on. Like I am always free on a non read meet sunday and always busy on a read meet sunday. Maybe one of these days I will learn the art of not thinking about a readmeet. Planning is futile.
Like AAI should be given the "theka" to make worldclass airports. Let them start with Agartala or Kanyakumari. Maybe we can think of Chennai and Kolkata then.
Like Anil Ambani is realising soon that kicking up his feet and throwing a tantrum will get him nowhere in the real world. Like he is understanding that the Congress is giving out the tenders and contracts for the Airport modernisation, not the Samajwadi party.
Like Rang De Basanti has restored fame to Aamir Khan and that he should always wear his hair short. Like he should understand that any film that calls for a handle bar moustache and flowing tresses should be avoided like wildfire.
Like I got a new phone that has a 1.3 MP, and hotswap, and MMS, and RS-MMC, and MP3 and AAC and GPRS and WAP and XHTML and HTTP and Email and Voicemail and MS-Office. And it is lighter than my earlier phone.
Like Rahul Dravid should stay at No.3. VVS Laxman should retire to Sydney, Australia. And Sachin Tendulkar should become Assistant Coach. This is one of my considered opinions.
Like the Indian cricket team hates chasing. They cannot think of batting more than 30 overs on a 4th innings pitch that is bouncing stump high and is moving more towards the covers than the wicket keeper.
Like Mahindra Singh Dhoni and Virender Sehwag should be given a handicap of 2 each before they come out to bat. Otherwise they will never make a hundred.
And finally, Soaps on Indian TV are existential and optimistically fantastical. It is my way of saying they are crap without saying it directly. Hopefully noone will find and quote my blog when I am rich, famous and writing scripts for consumption.
Like Narayan Rane should never be allowed to be made Chief Minister. He will make all the bar girls to be re-elected from their constituency, and the national symbol for the Congress will be made a chicken. Gade murge ukhadne nahin chahiye.
Black Horse Festival is on. So is Siddhi Vinayak Maghi Mahotsav. So is One Tree Music Festival. I wonder if I will make it to any of these. Just like I wondered if I would make it to the Banganga festival, the Mumbai festival, the Shopping festival, the Diwali festival, the M.F.Hussain festival, the Upper Classes art festival, the Middle Classes Ambarnath local bhajan festival, and the Shivaji Mitra Mandal carom festival. But I didnt make it to any of those.
Like this is one of those free Sundays there is never a Caferati readmeet on. Like I am always free on a non read meet sunday and always busy on a read meet sunday. Maybe one of these days I will learn the art of not thinking about a readmeet. Planning is futile.
Like AAI should be given the "theka" to make worldclass airports. Let them start with Agartala or Kanyakumari. Maybe we can think of Chennai and Kolkata then.
Like Anil Ambani is realising soon that kicking up his feet and throwing a tantrum will get him nowhere in the real world. Like he is understanding that the Congress is giving out the tenders and contracts for the Airport modernisation, not the Samajwadi party.
Like Rang De Basanti has restored fame to Aamir Khan and that he should always wear his hair short. Like he should understand that any film that calls for a handle bar moustache and flowing tresses should be avoided like wildfire.
Like I got a new phone that has a 1.3 MP, and hotswap, and MMS, and RS-MMC, and MP3 and AAC and GPRS and WAP and XHTML and HTTP and Email and Voicemail and MS-Office. And it is lighter than my earlier phone.
Like Rahul Dravid should stay at No.3. VVS Laxman should retire to Sydney, Australia. And Sachin Tendulkar should become Assistant Coach. This is one of my considered opinions.
Like the Indian cricket team hates chasing. They cannot think of batting more than 30 overs on a 4th innings pitch that is bouncing stump high and is moving more towards the covers than the wicket keeper.
Like Mahindra Singh Dhoni and Virender Sehwag should be given a handicap of 2 each before they come out to bat. Otherwise they will never make a hundred.
And finally, Soaps on Indian TV are existential and optimistically fantastical. It is my way of saying they are crap without saying it directly. Hopefully noone will find and quote my blog when I am rich, famous and writing scripts for consumption.
Main aa gaya hoon Teja
"It's not fair. It's just not fair, yaar." I fumed and raged and ranted on and on about the unfairness of the situation.
Aashit seemed to just ignore me. "Chhod na yaar, jaane de. It's just a stupid contest. Prize wize bhi nahin tha. Just 3000 bucks." He chewed contently on the two boomers he seamlessly merged into a coheSive mass of bubblegum, by the persuasive combination of saliva, his upper and lower jaws. "Agli baar dekh lenge. Study karke aana.", he concluded, as if to denote the conversation was over.
We were walking along Flora Fountain, after the stupid Black Horse festival. Ofcourse a few hours earlier it hadn't seemed so stupid. Surprising, how not winning at a fiction contest can make everything seem so trivial suddenly.
"You know, I can appeal against this in a court of law. A consumer court even. I can take them to court!!! I will take them to high court! to Supreme Court! I will khatkhatao the doors of parliament!" Now, I was in my element as a courtroom barrister, fighting imaginary courtroom duels, with robe and all. I was eloquent, and smart, and scoring points. I was getting confessions 'bhari adalat mein', and I was dancing like Akshay Kumar and singing like Kishore Kumar as we walked past the Sessions Court.
"Bas bas, ab band kar. Ghadi ghadi drama karta rehta hai. Stop acting like Utpal dutt in Golmaal."
"Ek ek ko chun chun ke maaroonga! chun chun ke !!!"
Well ok, I know I was acting a little hyper about the whole thing, but being disqualified rankled. OFcourse, and the morbid atmosphere around Cama hospital didnt help either.
"You know, I knew they had it out for me. I knew it when I saw that writer judge hobnobbing with that ex-RJ I used to hang out with. I know he always hated me. On the other hand, it could have been that cute judge I hit on about a year and a half ago.. Wonder why she still has a problem with me. But kya karega, must be my cute irresistable charm. Can't switch it off once I've turned it on!", I mused.
"But yaar, tu toh, you don't understand at all!! It's not about the money! Remember woh kya kehte the Esmero Sir? It's not whether you won or lost but how the game was played. And this was absolute cheating yaar!!", I said.
"And remember what Sangram Singh told him when he said that? Winning is not everything, it is the Only thing."
Strong Xavierite teachings still hold good after 7 years. They never wear off. The man can wear off but the teachings won't.
Aashit was trying hard not to control his own laughter. As he looked at me with derision, and tried to make sense enough to string an entire sentence together, I continued:
"Ofcourse, the entire thing could have been rigged and the finalists and winners pre-decided. Bloody networkers! bottom feeders! Saala, Angrezi ka A bhi nahin aata hai! I could teach them a thing or two about racy prose! What was wrong with my story? What was it? Poora within the limits tha! In English, with a trigger and everything. Even a black horse for good measure. I even added a villain and kept it within 300 words!"
Aashit narrowly missed stepping into a grate covered with old and smelly cabbage leaves, and we wound our way between parked trucks outside Crawford Market. "Yea, yea. Your story was good. In fact it was great. There was suspense, drama, trauma, humanity, truck drivers and school children, there was a hero and a villain. Even a couple of songs. Hmm, I wonder why they trashed it." As he spoke, he jauntily stepped into an old basket kept there. His foot went through the basket, disturbing the little home there. Squawking and screaming, 2 extremely irate chickens retreated rapidly into the shadows of the vegetable market.
"Unka bhi time aayega", I thought. "Chickens are brought to Crawford Market to be eaten. Bachke kahaan jaayenge?"
And I went on, " This is a gross injustice to the scriptwriting youth of our country!! Maybe I should have asked the co-ordinator out. Perhaps that would have helped?"
Aashit laughed and snorted nastily, "She wouldn't even look at you in your wildest dreams!"
"What about that cute chick writing earnestly in the front row? Maybe she didn't win also, did she?"
"You would have known if you'd waited till the end. You shouldn't have tossed the chair aside and left in dramatic fashion!"
"Haan, yaar. But that was so filmy, na? Ekdum Angry young man types."
"Ofcourse, ofcourse. Everyone was so happy to see you leave without breaking any more "props". Producer paise dega na." He said, pointing towards himself.
"So what yaar. Izzat is more important than some 100-200 bucks. And I was going to return the money I owe you. Just that I didn't win this stupid contest na...", I trailed off.
As we entered Badshah, I headed straight for the AC section. "Saab, Dus baje ke baad AC seksun band hai. Idhar baithna padenga." The miyan at the counter yelled.
After we ordered our faloodas, I returned to the topic of the day - Story No.1 by Pranay Srinivasan.
"Kaise fail hua? Now I know how Sanjay Kapoor feels every Friday when he goes out to see his new release. Flop.Flop.FLOP."
Aashit chewed noisily as he took out another Boomer. "Yea, boss. Next time karna. Ekdum fielding karke, reading vagaira karke write a nice story."
"But this was the No.1 story yaar! After this all will be No.2 or downwards. What to do yaar, I can't write anymore. This is too tough!"
Aashit said, "chal I'll talk to Peter on the phone. Abhi tak he must be on the train home." He took out his phone and dialled Peter Griffin. When he got through, he got up and walked out. I got up to accompany him, but he motioned me to wait. Cupping the receiver, he said "Idhar hi ruk. Aata hoon."
The faloodas arrived - predictably superb. I slurped mine down and looked at Aashit's temptingly. I took his glass and thought, "If I were to mix his falooda, that wouldnt be so bad would it? Otherwise it would settle to the bottom. Bechaara, he's trying to talk for me, I can do this much for him." So I mixed the vermicelli, the icecream, the rose, the milk and the subja into the falooda.
After a while and still no sign of Aashit. I thought to myself, "The top portion is getting warm. I should mix it a bit more". So I mixed it and whilst doing so, I saw some melting icecream down the side of the glass. "Must keep it clean", and I licked off the icecream. "Now see what you've done!". "no, no", Another voice said. "Take the top off and pour out the top 1/3rd into your glass. That way it'll stay at the bottom and stay cold." So I poured out the top half and the icecream. "Abhi toh it has become jhoota. Might as well drink it up." So I drank it up.
It was turning 12 and still no Aashit. So I thought, "It’s nearing 12’o’clock. These guys are gonna throw us out anyways. Might as well finish his falooda off. I'd be doing him a favour." So 15 seconds later, I was licking my lips and wiping my mouth with some cheap paper tissues.
As I was getting up to leave, Aashit came in. "Abey kidhar tha tu??" I asked him. "What did Peter say?"
"Peter? Nothing yaar. We finished in 15 seconds. Then my girlfriend called and I was talking to her. Yaar, she's not well. She went out and actually just sneezed. It's pretty serious. I offered to go over to her place, but she said she'll be OK."
"Ya, ya ok. What about the story???" I was impatient. Here I was waiting for him in this sadela Badshah Coldrink House, and he was talking to his GF. Asshole. Prick. Stunted Humanoid.
"Oh, that? Peter said that Zanjeer was already written before by Salim-Javed, and that Zanjeer had a white horse, not a black one. He said, tell Pranay to read the rules."
Aashit was looking around him.
"Wasn't there a falooda here when I left?"
The End.
Aashit seemed to just ignore me. "Chhod na yaar, jaane de. It's just a stupid contest. Prize wize bhi nahin tha. Just 3000 bucks." He chewed contently on the two boomers he seamlessly merged into a coheSive mass of bubblegum, by the persuasive combination of saliva, his upper and lower jaws. "Agli baar dekh lenge. Study karke aana.", he concluded, as if to denote the conversation was over.
We were walking along Flora Fountain, after the stupid Black Horse festival. Ofcourse a few hours earlier it hadn't seemed so stupid. Surprising, how not winning at a fiction contest can make everything seem so trivial suddenly.
"You know, I can appeal against this in a court of law. A consumer court even. I can take them to court!!! I will take them to high court! to Supreme Court! I will khatkhatao the doors of parliament!" Now, I was in my element as a courtroom barrister, fighting imaginary courtroom duels, with robe and all. I was eloquent, and smart, and scoring points. I was getting confessions 'bhari adalat mein', and I was dancing like Akshay Kumar and singing like Kishore Kumar as we walked past the Sessions Court.
"Bas bas, ab band kar. Ghadi ghadi drama karta rehta hai. Stop acting like Utpal dutt in Golmaal."
"Ek ek ko chun chun ke maaroonga! chun chun ke !!!"
Well ok, I know I was acting a little hyper about the whole thing, but being disqualified rankled. OFcourse, and the morbid atmosphere around Cama hospital didnt help either.
"You know, I knew they had it out for me. I knew it when I saw that writer judge hobnobbing with that ex-RJ I used to hang out with. I know he always hated me. On the other hand, it could have been that cute judge I hit on about a year and a half ago.. Wonder why she still has a problem with me. But kya karega, must be my cute irresistable charm. Can't switch it off once I've turned it on!", I mused.
"But yaar, tu toh, you don't understand at all!! It's not about the money! Remember woh kya kehte the Esmero Sir? It's not whether you won or lost but how the game was played. And this was absolute cheating yaar!!", I said.
"And remember what Sangram Singh told him when he said that? Winning is not everything, it is the Only thing."
Strong Xavierite teachings still hold good after 7 years. They never wear off. The man can wear off but the teachings won't.
Aashit was trying hard not to control his own laughter. As he looked at me with derision, and tried to make sense enough to string an entire sentence together, I continued:
"Ofcourse, the entire thing could have been rigged and the finalists and winners pre-decided. Bloody networkers! bottom feeders! Saala, Angrezi ka A bhi nahin aata hai! I could teach them a thing or two about racy prose! What was wrong with my story? What was it? Poora within the limits tha! In English, with a trigger and everything. Even a black horse for good measure. I even added a villain and kept it within 300 words!"
Aashit narrowly missed stepping into a grate covered with old and smelly cabbage leaves, and we wound our way between parked trucks outside Crawford Market. "Yea, yea. Your story was good. In fact it was great. There was suspense, drama, trauma, humanity, truck drivers and school children, there was a hero and a villain. Even a couple of songs. Hmm, I wonder why they trashed it." As he spoke, he jauntily stepped into an old basket kept there. His foot went through the basket, disturbing the little home there. Squawking and screaming, 2 extremely irate chickens retreated rapidly into the shadows of the vegetable market.
"Unka bhi time aayega", I thought. "Chickens are brought to Crawford Market to be eaten. Bachke kahaan jaayenge?"
And I went on, " This is a gross injustice to the scriptwriting youth of our country!! Maybe I should have asked the co-ordinator out. Perhaps that would have helped?"
Aashit laughed and snorted nastily, "She wouldn't even look at you in your wildest dreams!"
"What about that cute chick writing earnestly in the front row? Maybe she didn't win also, did she?"
"You would have known if you'd waited till the end. You shouldn't have tossed the chair aside and left in dramatic fashion!"
"Haan, yaar. But that was so filmy, na? Ekdum Angry young man types."
"Ofcourse, ofcourse. Everyone was so happy to see you leave without breaking any more "props". Producer paise dega na." He said, pointing towards himself.
"So what yaar. Izzat is more important than some 100-200 bucks. And I was going to return the money I owe you. Just that I didn't win this stupid contest na...", I trailed off.
As we entered Badshah, I headed straight for the AC section. "Saab, Dus baje ke baad AC seksun band hai. Idhar baithna padenga." The miyan at the counter yelled.
After we ordered our faloodas, I returned to the topic of the day - Story No.1 by Pranay Srinivasan.
"Kaise fail hua? Now I know how Sanjay Kapoor feels every Friday when he goes out to see his new release. Flop.Flop.FLOP."
Aashit chewed noisily as he took out another Boomer. "Yea, boss. Next time karna. Ekdum fielding karke, reading vagaira karke write a nice story."
"But this was the No.1 story yaar! After this all will be No.2 or downwards. What to do yaar, I can't write anymore. This is too tough!"
Aashit said, "chal I'll talk to Peter on the phone. Abhi tak he must be on the train home." He took out his phone and dialled Peter Griffin. When he got through, he got up and walked out. I got up to accompany him, but he motioned me to wait. Cupping the receiver, he said "Idhar hi ruk. Aata hoon."
The faloodas arrived - predictably superb. I slurped mine down and looked at Aashit's temptingly. I took his glass and thought, "If I were to mix his falooda, that wouldnt be so bad would it? Otherwise it would settle to the bottom. Bechaara, he's trying to talk for me, I can do this much for him." So I mixed the vermicelli, the icecream, the rose, the milk and the subja into the falooda.
After a while and still no sign of Aashit. I thought to myself, "The top portion is getting warm. I should mix it a bit more". So I mixed it and whilst doing so, I saw some melting icecream down the side of the glass. "Must keep it clean", and I licked off the icecream. "Now see what you've done!". "no, no", Another voice said. "Take the top off and pour out the top 1/3rd into your glass. That way it'll stay at the bottom and stay cold." So I poured out the top half and the icecream. "Abhi toh it has become jhoota. Might as well drink it up." So I drank it up.
It was turning 12 and still no Aashit. So I thought, "It’s nearing 12’o’clock. These guys are gonna throw us out anyways. Might as well finish his falooda off. I'd be doing him a favour." So 15 seconds later, I was licking my lips and wiping my mouth with some cheap paper tissues.
As I was getting up to leave, Aashit came in. "Abey kidhar tha tu??" I asked him. "What did Peter say?"
"Peter? Nothing yaar. We finished in 15 seconds. Then my girlfriend called and I was talking to her. Yaar, she's not well. She went out and actually just sneezed. It's pretty serious. I offered to go over to her place, but she said she'll be OK."
"Ya, ya ok. What about the story???" I was impatient. Here I was waiting for him in this sadela Badshah Coldrink House, and he was talking to his GF. Asshole. Prick. Stunted Humanoid.
"Oh, that? Peter said that Zanjeer was already written before by Salim-Javed, and that Zanjeer had a white horse, not a black one. He said, tell Pranay to read the rules."
Aashit was looking around him.
"Wasn't there a falooda here when I left?"
The End.
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