Too Mooch.....

I am fuming!! And this time it’s gonna be serious. Things have been taken to a bit extreme this time around. And it is time to give it back.

It is nobody’s concern whether I want to sport a stubble, a goatee or even a damn beard. But hell no!! These accursed Gillette waala’s will poke their nose into even the most personal of things.

If anyone is lost for context then it here it is – Gillette has recently launched a campaign “Shave India Movement - Women Against Lazy Stubble” encouraging women to shun men who chose to sport a stubble. And they have managed to rope in the most jobless women in Bollywood - Neha Dhupia, Minisha Lamba and Mugdha Godse to endorse the campaign. The underlying message is women should not co-operate with men until they agree to sport a clean shaven look. And to encourage men to take up the razor, Gillette has come up with a Rs 125 razor pack!!

Now my opposition to this is based on two points
1. Men also have some fundamental rights
2. Under the garb of a women’s campaign Gillette are pushing their product


Point 1 first.

Dear Women,

Please do note. I am firmly against gender discrimination and believe in equality of the sexes. But if your idea of equality is to treat men as an inferior beings then I have major issues with this. Men are also human beings who like to exercise free choice and will. This campaign is definitely intruding on men’s right to decide for themselves. There is a difference between an untended for and a groomed whisker. And as long as I am doing the basis grooming it is my right to decide on my facial hair. Don’t need a battery of failed starlets to decide for me. Shaving or not having is a personal choice just like it is your prerogative to sport long hair and a mascara. Leave it to us. I will do what I am comfortable with. If I feel good with a stubble so be it.


Point 2

To Whomsoever it is concerned asshole Gillettewaalas,

Take your cheap razors up your arse buddy…and shave your arse for all I care. I don’t need your products and this campaign has definitely made me turn my back on your products. I would rather choose a product which emphasizes and educates on the importance of self-grooming. Any product which uses such despicable marketing techniques is not for me.


And for all women who have joined this so called “movement of losers”…get a life gals.


BTW I just joined a group “Men Against Women Against Lazy Stubble”. Haha you dint see it coming your ways losers!!


Over and Out,
Shubham

"Telemarketer" Salvation

I hate telemarketers. And I hate them from the very core of my heart.

Can someone please tell them that I can hardly manage to pay my current credit card bills let alone afford a new one!! My boss won’t give me an off to go on your promised “grand vacation” and since I am anyways destined to be one day hanged for murdering a telemarketer, my family won’t be able to claim the insurance. But still these nosy bastard will keep bombarding me with all bizarre offerings. Credit cards, Insurance, Demat accounts, Vacation plans. They have it all. Politely declining their offerings doesn’t work. Come to think of it even being angry doesn’t work. Disconnecting calls, shouting, abusing, pleading, begging – to no avail. These guys have some balls!! Once when I told a caller that I do not want a loan, the lady on the line had the audacity to ask “Why sir??”. Damn you. I don’t need to give you reasons.

So one day after the umpteenth time of shouting at them and banging the phone I was close to a nervous wreck. But these rascals will keep badgering me with their calls. The now dreaded phone would ring frequently. Exasperated I would pick up the call. Will this never end?? Am I destined to suffer a painful existence??

But when pushed to the wall a man fights back. And fight back I did. The next time the call came I was prepared with some stuff of my own.

Asshole 1: (Blabbers something in Tamil)

Me: (Tamil Teriyaar)- Meaning I don’t know Tamil

Asshole 1: Sir I am calling from ICICI Bank. You have been shortlisted for a preapproved loan at 15 percent interest

Me: I work with HDFC. We will offer a loan at 12 percent interest. Are you interested?

Asshole 1: Er..emm…is this Shubham Bhardwaj??

Me: No this is Rajnikant

Asshole 1 hangs up.

Phone rings again:

Asshole 2: (rand…sheri...ille)

Me: (Tamil Teriyaar)

Asshole 2: Sir I am calling from Birla Sunlife insurance. Are you interested in a Health insurance?

Me: My pet dog is not keeping well. Can you insure him?

Asshole 2: Ummm…we insure only human beings.

Me: Ohhh…does it cover treatment for lunacy?

Asshole 2 hangs up.

Phone rings again. There is a lady on line

Asshole 3: (saaaar….solunga…)

Me: (Tamil Teriyaar)

Asshole 3: A very good afternoon sir. I am calling from Country Club. We are offering a special tour for 2 for Singapore.

Me: I am single. Will you join me for the tour?

Asshole 3: (Porikki) – Rowdy

Me: (Poya)- Bhag be

Asshole 3 hangs up.

Suddenly such calls are a lot more fun.

Life is good.

Over & Out,

Shubham

The Tale of the "Outstanding" Student

Somehow I feel exploited by the education system. If I look back at my school days I feel that considering the circumstances the school was literally fleecing me of my money. Despite the hefty fees charged I never got the benefits. Just how...

A daily chronicle of my school life.

Period 1: English

English…the language of Shakespeare & Keats. The plays and poems which create a romantic web around you. In this bliss and torrent of love, how can yours truly remain unaffected? And like any horny teenager I too fell in love with my English teacher. Her recital of the rendezvous of Romeo & Juliet would leave me dreamy eyed, my imaginations running wild. Ohh...the starry night, the mist in the garden, the naughtiness of the dawn….

The glazy eyes however dint escape the attention of the my object of lust…I mean love. A prompt checkup of my attention span and soon the class would be one person short. The missing person would be standing outside ruminating over the great knowledge he is missing.

Period 2: Physics

The means to becoming the next Newton or Einstein. The magical world of thermodynamics, electromagnetics, relativity…

Now don’t get me wrong. I loved the subject. But its hard not to laugh when your teacher is wearing sports shoes with a three-piece suit. And with the Bihari English our masterji had!! Exclamations such as “No problem is there” , “Open the windows, let the weather come inside” were doled out quite freely. Not hard to imagine the utter helplessness we experienced. As the mastermind of the ensuing chaos, I was soon sent outside the class, for as masterji put it “the more good of the class”.

Period 3: Biology

Ugggghhhhhhh……….I hate the subject. Bones, cockroaches, frogs. Gawd!! I would always feels nauseated in the biology lab.

Now the subject was taught by a frail old lady Mrs Ghosh..which unsurprisingly was changed to Mrs Ghost for our internal reference. The old lady always had an axe to grind against me…well….hmmm…ahem…she once saw me doing a “Goodmorning Mrs Ghosh” to the skeleton kept just outside the lab. Hmmm…I could consider myself pure unlucky.

Now Ghosty had a habit of starting the lesson by asking questions on what was taught in the previous session. And whoever failed to answer was promptly asked to leave the class. So five minutes into the lesson and I would be issued the eviction notice. Class after class, week after week...

Period 4: Maths

Now this was a subject I was good at. Dealing in numbers really egged me on. But given my short attention span and the plethora of opportunities for mischief and fun, the teacher could somehow never restrain himself from reading the riot act to me. So the “Outstanding” student keeps his slate clean.

Period 5: Chemistry

Damn. Despite my utmost efforts the balanced equations never balanced, the periodic table was periodically mixed up, acids gave me acidity and bases made me forget my basics…

Add to this my checkered record of “accidents” in the lab. Understandably the teacher developed a phobia of me. And the results were predictable. A trip to my designated spot…

Period 6: Computers

1+0=1,

1+1=1??

What confusion!! C, C++, Java...all conspired to bedazzle me. The classes, methods, objects were all mumbo jumbo for me. And when the hottest chick of your class sits next to you, its hard enough to concentrate. The eyeballs tend to rove about. And promptly you are sent on your way out.

Man!! School was fun.

Life is good,

Signing off,

Shubham

Ponga Pandit

The day when I donned the attire of a pujari…..

I can envisage some raised eyebrows, head scratches, utter disbelief, and all varied expressions of bewilderment. After all a non-believer like me who never lets go of any opportunity of God bashing, acting as an agent of God?? Hehe…the incident always manages to bring a smile on my face (which given my Aloo ka paratha fiasco last week is a premium these days).

Being born in a Brahmin family is the worst thing a person can do to himself. Not only are you looked down upon by the political class, you have to also put up with all the idiosyncrasies of a typical Brahmin household. We have prayers, sermons, and religious taboos for the smallest of events! Unfortunately for my folks (and fortunately for me) I never took to the God-fearing ways.

Ahh…the irony of all

The event which unfolds below occurred while I was staying in Delhi. The landlord and his family used to stay a floor below. On a typically quite sunny day, nascent beginning to the summer season, the birds chirping which felt like sweet music to my ears….Ok ok, I will cut the crap.

I just lay on the cot, lost in some intellectual thoughts when suddenly the fat landlady barges in. Before I can even open my mouth, she drops in a bomb – “Beta, I want puja to be performed for the well being of family”. So, I wondered? She continued her rambling – “and as the temple pujari has gone to his village, can you please conduct the puja for us?” Stunned for a moment, I stuttered “I, I …" looking around for an excuse to get out of the situation. Finally managed to conjure up some lousy excuse about not being the religious types and not conversant with all the ceremonies. But you know how women are. She pressed on with her demand until I finally agreed (only to get rid of her) on the assurance that she will be guiding me throughout. Other than religious blasphemy I didn’t for see much danger. Given my skirmishes with GOD I could take that bit of a risk.

So next day morning, attired in a neat kurta pajama your sham pujari makes his way to the fatso’s place. A peep inside and I froze at the door. The first signs of danger were in front of me. I had been expecting an audience of 3-4. But lo and behold!! I was staring at some 15 fat housewives looking expectantly towards me to wash them of their sins (Pun intended). I had the utmost urge (sixth sense??) to turn back and it was only some forceful dragging by the bitch…I mean fatso…that got me inside.

Regaining my composure I took my designated seat (with 15 eyeballs following every movement of mine). Now it was my turn to expectantly look at the Fatso. She smiled. I smiled. She smiled again. I smiled again. She smiles again. Something was amiss. I smiled harder with a ‘what next’ look. She keeps smiling. I was increasingly becoming desperate. Suddenly realization dawned on her. Relief dawned on me. She spoke up – “Since you are the Pandit, you know better. Please guide us”.

Shell-shocked! Speechless! Do I need to tell who?

Momentarily I had a feeling of a trapped animal. Not even in my wildest dreams had I imagined being caught up in even a vividly similar situation. Desperate thoughts came to my mind to somehow escape this ridiculous situation I found myself in. I was even toying with ideas such as using the oil lamp to set something on fire, or even feigning a heart attack. Man this lady had me in a real soup. It was as if someone had poured vinegar down my throat!!

But then…

The devil in me raised its head. It was as if I suddenly achieved enlightenment. The path ahead was lit up for me. I thought. Why not give it back to Fatso? What she had done needed an equal measure of response. If she is pouring the vinegar down my throat why not throw up on her? She wants a Puja, let her have a puja….the non-believer way. What if I don’t know all the rituals & prayers? I can always make some up ;).

And so I began the mumbo jumbo…an unholy cocktail of prayers & rituals. Intertwined with curses & abuses. Who says we can remix only music!! Definitely the fatso will not derive any divine benefits from the exercise. As for me - I enjoyed the creative license given to me by the absurd situation. Hum to hamesha se bahot creative rahe hai….

Life is good.

Signing off,

“Paakhandi Pandit” Shubham

My Tryst with Aloo Parathas

Uggghhhhhhh!! Trust the world to conspire against me.

To do or not to do??

This was the question playing on my mind this morning. To give a background – it suddenly occurred to me to prepare some aloo parathas to take to office for lunch. Now then! I know I am the worst(bordering on dangerous) guy to have around in the kitchen. But some days you get this keeda of doing something different. And of course! the alternative of eating at the God forsaken office cafeteria was too frightening.

And Aloo paratha!! My favorite…I could well imagine wolfing down buttered parathas with curd…..Yummy!! The thought was way too good to ignore.

So with a trepidation of setting the kitchen on fire, and the hopes of a delicious lunch I set about my task.

Lights! Sound! Action! and Fireworks!!

Task 1: Kneading the flour

Now this took some doing. Howsoever hard I tried I never seemed to get the proportion of flour and water right. Either it would become way too sticky or way too dry…..not exactly the best of starts but then the greatest triumphs began with difficulties. To cut a sad story short I finally did managed to curse/coerce/coax the dough in shape!

Task 2: Roll a perfect round paratha

Aha..hmmm…mmmm

To tell you the truth I hadn’t expected to roll out the perfectly shaped “things” at the first go. I would have settled for even a map of India….but unfortunately, I ended with what resembled South Asia, with Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh ready to fall apart.

But then normal is boring. Anyways once in the stomach it won’t matter whether the paratha is round or ahh…uniquely shape

Task 3: Fry the paratha

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh……

If task 1 and task 2 were nightmarish then this was plain worse…the “thingy” got stuck to the pan and coaxing it to come unstuck was like hell. In turn I was managing to burn the parathas and intermittently my fingers. All dreams of having tasty golden brown parathas were slowly vanishing. Instead I was managing to come up with brown black connotations which remotely resembled something edible. Gawd!! Is there no way of getting things done without this much of effort!!

Finally!! All done and ready. Two uniquely shaped, brown black parathas gleamed at me. Lovingly I packed them for lunch……..looking forward to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

End result

.

.

.

.

.

.

On my way to office I dropped the lunch box somewhere. Had to again partake the slow poison at the office cafeteria.

Life is good.

Over & Out,

Shubham

Much "Abuse" About Nothing

An account of my daily existence:

7 am: The alarm rings up. Get up and first thing abuse the inventor of the alarm clock

7.15 am: On my way to the Gym. Glare at the honking car drivers & whizzing bikes

8 am: Curse the trainer for overworking you. The donkey needs to know the limitations of the human body

8.30 am: Prepare breakfast. Abuse the maid for the dirty utensils

9 am: Curse the company for such ‘early’ timings

11 am: Reserve some obscenities for the boss for loading you with tons of work

1.30 pm: Lunch. Lay out a platter of choicest abuses for the caterer in response to the dreadful platter he lays out for you

3.00 pm: Cuss at the whole world for conspiring against your very existence

4.30 pm: Crib at the shitty life you are living

8 pm: Leave office. Snarl at everybody who crosses your path. Everyone needs to know you had a bad day at office

9.30 pm: Dinner. Shout and hurl abuses at the waiter for the poor service, poor food, etc

11.00 pm: Hurl abuses at the neighbor's blaring music

12 pm: Sleep time. A quick “Fuck the whole world” for a better sleep

Life is good…

Over & Out,

Shubham

The Forgotten Indian

After a long hiatus I am back to the blog. Will not make any promises of keeping the blog updated since I have realized how lazy I am.

Back to business then!! The post has been prompted by the event which happened a few days ago. No doubt a great day for a man and the sporting world. I am referring to Roger Federer finally overcoming his long drawn jinx and finally laying his hands on the coveted French Open. Man!! After all his trials and tribulations and of course tears (courtesy a certain Mr Nadal), his efforts were finally fruitful. A heartiest congratulations to him and best wishes for more silverware in years to come.

However, I have a point to pick here. Not against Roger, who has most certainly been a sporting icon of our generation. It is against us Indian fans of tennis. Right after Nadal’s ignominious exit against Soderling I could see my Facebook home page plastered with my friends status messages egging on Federer. Status message like “Go Roger Go”, “Fedex on the way”, etc were visible all over my FB home page. Almost everyone who knew the T of tennis was throwing his weight behind the man. A most notable indicator of the fan following Roger has.

Amidst all the hoopla surrounding Roger’s march to the title there was another discreet march going on in parallel. It was our very own Leander Paes quietly progressing and then winning in the men’s double. But my FB friends who were going gaga over Roger had no time for our very own countryman. Or maybe they were not aware of Paes’s progress, or maybe they were aware and don’t care. After all in a country so used to mediocrity in sports (with some exceptions) we have resigned ourselves to supporting players/teams of other countries (Brazil in soccer, etc). Nothing wrong in supporting excellence, irrespective of nationalities, but then we should not forget our own sporting stars.

Ever our over-enthusiastic press went gaga over the Federer mania. Flip over to any news channel and it would be showering adulation on the Fedex. Must have repeated the video of Federer weeping atleast a 500 times. And all the weeping ensured that Leander was consigned to a very small mention somewhere in the news. Agreed that Federer is the bigger star with a larger mass appeal. But then Leander’s contribution to Indian tennis cannot be looked over. His triumphs in Davis Cups and the Atlanta Olympics still give goose bumps because of their sheer fervor. Certainly he deserves more of our attention span.

Food for thought!!

Over and Out,

Shubham

The Making of a Villain

It suddenly struck me like a bolt of lightening. And ever since, I have been having this uneasy feeling about me.

You see, last week it dawned on me that I was lacking an ambition in life. I recall blurting out some insipid answers in my MBA entrance as well job interviews. But those were on the spur of the moment/crammed up/ambiguous answers. I still remember the MBA entrance interview. On being asked about my reason for going for an MBA, I coolly stated that "I wanted to start a chess academy". The shocked interviewer nearly fell out of her chair. But you see an essential for an MBA aspirant is being a gyaan guru and a good googler :). Gyaan after gyaan until the interviewer resigned herself to the fact that I was half mad and it was better to admit me then to let me inflict misery on someone else. My job interview answer was ah...I think we can leave it for some other time.

After all these hit and run cases in interviews I never had a guilt feeling. But last week was different. This time it felt like a churn from within about this lack of direction. There was something that was burning my insides. It seemed like a desire for the ultimate moksha.

Alright alright..stop sniggering. I know I am exaggerating. Nothing of this voice from within kinda stuff. Most likely I had again fallen from my bed. One more time and I will...I will..er start sleeping on the floor.



Armed with a bump on my head I had the urge to go to pee. Er......I think the aftereffects of last week's fall are still there. Armed with a bump on the head and the resultant dazzled thought process I had this urge to identify what I wanted to do in life. So I set about preparing a checklist of my itemized life as well as where I stood.

1. Family: Just about matching up to their expectations
2. Love life: Currently enjoying before marriage ends all love
3. Friends: Get lost buggers
4. Society: I am God's gift to mankind
5. Career: ?????


So you see my portfolio of life was complete except for one glaring gap. I had still not been able to identify my career goal. I was determined to plug in this gap. Trusting my googling skills to help find my final destination, or atleast an interim one, I set about my task.

I shortlisted the following promising goals:

1. Become CEO of an organization
2. Become a cricketer
3. Become an actor


Results of my detailed analysis:

1. Become CEO of an organization

Now being a CEO seemed cool enough. I could imagine myself donning an Armani and striding into the board meeting with a purposeful gait. Declaring another successful financial year and acknowledging the resultant applause seemed to be my kinda job. I delved in further. A study revealed that most CEOs suffer from health problems because of the stressful life. Ah, I thought, I am a tougher nut to crack. Further the study said that CEOs tend to get along with staff(thats easy..I would tell the staff to get along with me or else get fired), good with financial numbers(easy!), work alcoholics(easy!), wake up at 5 am(easy.....). Wait a minute!! Waking up at 5 am is criminal offense punishable with death penalty(ok ok.. I made that up).

No further thought required to strike out this goal.

2. Become a cricketer

Struck out because of same reason as above.

3. Become an actor

This seemed like perfect for me. I mean a handsome hunk like me would be a sure shot hit with the masses and the classes. I would have girls swooning like anything.

Enthusiastically I broke the news to my friends. Peels of laughter greeted my announcement. Enraged I began to look around for bat to bash them all. In middle to this ruckus a friend sympathetically said I could try for a comedian's role. Needless to say he was the first to be sent flying out of the house. Mouthing a barrage of obscenities I chased the louts(not calling them friends anymore) until the street end. With rage in my eyes I turned.

And then it happened. Eureka!! eureka!! In one stroke of moment I had unraveled my calling.My recent performance would have any Mogambo, Shakaal or Gabbar trembling. Bollywood was calling me(Hollywood does not have any rape scenes).

That day a villain wannabe was unleashed.


Signing off,
Shubham

P.S.: You may want to have my autograph

We are the Champs!!

Open Letter to Hayden & Symonds

Dear Hayden & Symonds,

First of all loads of thanks from all of us in India.

Surprised!!

I bet so. After all thats been happening on the Indian cricket team's tour to Australia you would have least expected adulation from an ardent fan of the Indian team. But your highness, I wish to offer you gratitude from the depths of my heart . For over the past few days you have been going out of your way to make the game of cricket more interesting for us fans. Albeit your methods have been crude(typical Aussie-like), but the effect has been effective to say the least.

Haydenji your contribution to the cause of cricket will be well and truly remembered for a long time to come. Your boxing invitation to the kiddo Ishant has opened up possibilities which were way beyond mediocre people like us. Who else could have thought of such a money spinner idea as this? Imagine Sachin vs Ponting slogging it out in the ring while it is broadcast to the world. We can even ask your man Bucknor to referee so that the fight can be more even. Though who would pay for the new dentures for Ponti is a thing that needs to be worked out. Sirji we are a poor country who can ill afford this expense.

Back to the kiddo Ishant. He has no right to damage the great Aussie reputation by knocking out half the Aussie team in no time. The boy has to be put in place. But sirji just be careful of the Indian deception. For it may happen that you are all geared up in the ring but lo and behold, instead of Ishant the surd Bhajji may jump into the ring. Sirji then you are a goner. For that surd is a real nutcracker(hopefully he will not touch your esteemed ones..or rather two). And I have heard that he is really mad at you for that ah...rather cute "obnoxious weed" comment. As a true well wisher of yours I would earnestly advice you to rather avoid the nasty situation.

Symonds sirji..please do not even think that I have forgotten you. You have been unfairly at the receiving end of lots of criticism. Please forgive all this as acts of ignorants. So what if you say a few kind words to Bhajji and Ishant. Those two crooks have no business to respond in kind. After all you are an Aussie.

And my lord as a measure of your kindheartedness please also forgive the inadvertent reference to your ancestors. Symonds paaji we Indians are totally against racial abuse. We are very religious people and worship monkeys. So how can you even think that we would degrade a thing which we worship by comparisons to you. Paaji for your reference we will shortly be sending you a list of all abuses which we can think up for you(signed by all Indian fans). So the next time you would be able to clearly understand that the abuses are directed to your current family and not to your ancestors.



Hope this letter alleviates the concerns of both of you,

An Indian Fan

Womania!!

Symptoms: Cash strapped, nerves jangled, pulling out hair in frustration, mentally exhausted???

Cause: All symptoms can be traced back to the one and only creature on earth who walks on two legs, talks non-stop garbage and does not have any brains.


Sounds familiar?
My male friends, you have just been struck with Womania, a deadly disease more potent than any other disease known to "mankind". Skeptical? Hard to believe? Come on man...death cant be worse than being slave to the whims and fancies of a creature who will make you dance to her tunes. Atleast in death you don't have to suffer everyday.

Whoever coined the term the "weaker sex" must surely be a nutter or might have found the term too ironical and become enamored with it. Weaker sex, my foot!!

Ever been faced with a stubborn girlfriend who refuses to budge even when she knows she is wrong (for people who read too much into things - No I havnt fought with my girl lately). Or ever been confronted with a barrage of tears and wailing, leading you towards your doom. Someone has rightly said "Tears are the tool which a woman uses to break a man's will"

Alternating between anger/crying/wailing/emotional blackmail, men are subjected to multiple weapons of mass destruction. Did Bushie say "Shock and Awe"!! Better get Osama to marry a woman. A woman in his life would have him and his cronies running helter skelter, more effectively than any American bombs can.

Back to the bigger terrorists then Osama. A woman in your life is a sure recipe for disaster. The method and the timing may vary, but the outcome is all too predictable. For once a women makes up her mind then nothing can halt the forthcoming destruction.

You know you must be out of your mind, but you still end up doing crazy things to please her. For nothing can move a woman's will - except perhaps diamond jewelery, expensive gifts and the classis candle light dinner. All of course guaranteed to burn a hole in your pocket, that is, if you are not stripped off your pants(my undies don't have pockets as I don't relish the thought of a hole being burnt through them).

Why can't women simply understand that men are rational creatures who can't understand that a "Yes" means a "No". No way!! depending on the time, the location and the mood, similar things have different meanings. Or men have more important things to remember then "the 2nd anniversary of our 6th meeting". Or the perennial classic complain from women "Men are more interested in cricket". Do we ever complain about you watching "Koffee with Karan" and the "Kyuki Saas bhi Kabhi Bahu thi"?? Its ok if you drool over a gayish anchor and cry with the bitching ladies, but a Sachin square cut is a pain in you a**(beep beep).

Someone has rightly said "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus". Being closer to the sun has surely addled their brain.

Will end before any female species decides to set her will against me.

Signing off,
Shubham

Shubham Bhai Professor!!

When an opportunity comes your way, grab it with both hands. That's exactly what I did last week...

You see for years I have been at the receiving end of the tyranny of professors. Year after year, lecture after lecture...they all drolled on...trying to stuff in more and more of the Pythogrus theorem, thermodynamics, balanced equations - which never seemed to balance for me... killing any semblance of life within me. All I ended up was with a numbed brain - from the mindboggling info, sore butts - from hours of of sitting on the back bench, sore ears - both from listening to the pointless drolling(atleast for me) and from being pulled hard because of ah...we can skip that part.

So you see that I had years of pent up emotions inside. A total of 18 precious years that this education system had taken away from me. So when the chance came to ventilate years of frustration I promised myself that I will make it count.

As part of my job I am supposed to conduct training session for new recruits. Since it was my first time(first time is always special ;)) I was determined to do justice to all my sufferings. All charged up and with a poise of a rhino braced for the kill, I entered the training room - trying to project myself as a no nonsense man. Reaching the front of the classroom I turned around and announced "Hello guys, I am Shubham and I will be your trainer today". Pausing to see the effect of my sudden entrance and the dramatic announcement I looked around.

Stunned faces and gawking eyes were visible throughout the room. People stared at me and whispered among themselves. This was totally unlike the grand impact I have envisaged. Agreed that I don't look like the academic type(cant help my good looks and the hip image) but still this is not what I expected from "my students". Man tell you this new generation have no values left in their system..this is no way to receive a faculty. The entire generation is rotten!!

Recovering quickly I blurted out "Er...I will be taking the training session today. We can probably begin with the introductions". That was the beginning the most hilarious round of introductions. Person after person introduced themselves as "Arun, Hyderabad Cognizant", "Priya, Kochi Cognizant", "Amit, Bangalore Cognizant". It crossed my mind to repeat to my pupil SRKs dialogue from the movie Chak De(for the uninitiated when the members of the girl's hockey team introduced themselves by their name and the states which they belong to, SRK boomed and stuttered "We..We ar..are representing In..India not the S..States"). SRK got away with claps and cheers but I dont think a similar remark would have been appreciated in the current environment. Satisfying myself with a sigh and eager to roll out my special preparation I let go of this moment.

And so it began. As presentations after presentations, slides and slides, gyaan after gyaan were dished out to the audience, I watched with sadistic pleasure the tell tale signs of the lecture having the desired impact. Heads began to droll and eyes began to have a dazed look about them. People kept changing they seating postures, I assume, or rather I am sure, to give relief to their by now sore butts. To make proceeding more enjoyable(only for myself) I began throwing questions, making sure that the target would be some poor guy whose eyelids were fluttering. The startled victim would blurt out some answer. But when a man is on a mission, nothing can stop him. Questions after questions until the resolve would finally break and the victim would hang his head in shame, or probably trying to avoid hurling abuse.

When I was finally finished pleading looks and near tearful eyes looked at me begging for mercy. But as they say a momentary outburst is not enough to alleviate the sufferings of a lifetime. Savoring the moment of triumph I gleefully thought of the next chance to ventilate my feelings. A thought crossed my mind - Bring them on.


As they say "Revenge is a dish best served cold"



Signing off for now
Shubham

Chennai Roundup

Hello....back again after a long long haitus...
Been busy with loads of work so neglected this blog.
But promise to again get it up and running.

Work in Chennai has been real hectic and demanding. Add to it the long work hours and a back breaking journey to and from office(situated in the city outskirts) and you get a perfect cocktail guaranteed to ensure unbridled misery. Man why do these IT companies have to operate far far away from civilization? Do they fear that the staff will get frustrated and run away? So as a preemptive step just take out any possibilities of anyone reaching the city without being half dead.

Seems like we are working in some secret laboratory building some super sonic missiles. The only missile I possibly foresee emerging from our office is me throwing one of those steel plates on the head of the canteen guys. A few more of his version of paneer butter masala and diamond chapatis and we would have a homicide in the canteen. We understand that too good a lunch would mean post lunch sleepy effect but still this is no way to treat people. All we get is the damned podi, dal ki-maki, gobi 65 karela 65 bhindi 65....man what the hell is this 65??? some diet plan the HR is enforcing on the employees? Wont be surprised if this is some idiotic HR conspiracy to cut costs and boost employ productivity. Simple. Give some darned food, people eat less, take less time to eat and obviously people cant sleep on an empty stomach. Man no B-school would teach you this kinda resource optimization. Hats of these smiling assassins!!

Recently we had a fire drill in office, another nerdy and futile exercise. Imagine volunteers laughing and shouting "Fire, fire". Hard not to mutter curses on being disturbed in middle of some important assignment. Reluctantly goaded myself out of the building and only just about managed to overcome the temptation to whack the guy on his head. I understand that it is important and for our own security. But dont make it a big joke.

The drill incharge was another joker among the pack. The nutter was shouting "Run, Run" over the loudspeaker. Run where?? the city is 25 kms away. Never knew job profile also included being a marathon runner. Though it stuck me that if ever a fire happens I will run to the canteen and throw the canteen guys in the fire.

As they say in every tragedy there is an opportunity...


Signing off for now,

Shubham

Adieu to Hyderabad

Its not been even two months for me in Hyderabad and I am preparing to bid farewell to this place. For I am shifting base to my company's head office in Chennai.

These two months (minus a week :)) have been full of ups and down for me. The excitement of my first job, the first salary, the sudden feeling of responsibility, the travails of settling down in a new city, the new friends I have made, have all been experiences worth living through.

I have been lucky to have the best set of colleagues possible. The apprehension of being in the first job, and the anxiety over getting things right was all wiped out by the help and friendliness of the lot. It has been great fun being with the lot and settling into the new job. Have thoroughly enjoyed their company and of course making the mickey out of them :). They have been a great lot of guys and "the..well...".

Another thing that made the first job even more emotional was the retirement of dad. Just the right time to take the mantle, eh! But missed being with my family on the occasion. How I am longing to meet them and my niece Illarika is something only I know.

Its been my first experience staying in South India and I would say it hasn't been a bad experience. Had some issues earlier on but guess once we got over them the stay has been pleasant. Now as I move into another dreaded location I hope my doubts about the city prove to be wrong.

Adieu Hyderabad...even though the stay was short yet the experience was vast


Over & out
Shubham

My first salary

Its been one week since I got my first salary. Always dreamt of this day. Had been postponing buying a lot of things just to ensure that I was able to pay for them from my own pocket. Enough of wasting dad's money....but would say when it actually came down to spending from my own account I had a few goose bumps. Not easy to spend one's own hard earned money, eh! Was lot easier to buy things when you were not directly paying for it :).

Decided that the best thing to do would be to get gifts for the family....helps in washing off the guilt when you get down to your own shopping :). Bought watches for my parents first thing. Was fun to buy for your parents as usually its the other way around. Thought sending it to them as a surprise would be gr8. Had promised lil sis an iPod from my first salary..there goes one item from her evergrowing list...not that I mind...she is such a sweeto!! Guess its the right time to do things that I always wanted for my dear ones.

Di's gift is due and so is one for my just born niece Illarika( i know i know...it sounds more like a name for a witch...have already told Di). Anyways this is just the beginning guys..have to do a lot more for you.

Just been a week into this newly found empowerment but am already feeling why people cherish their first salary. The sense of happiness from buying even small things from your own earned money is immense. And gosh!! suddenly you feel the urge to spend more responsibly.

Anyways Over & Out for now,

Shubham

One month in Hyderabad

Hmmm...its been more than one month for me in Hyderabad. Definitely not a great stretch of time to be able to write about the city but still would like to share my experiences.

When I had been asked to join in Hyderabad for my job I was congratulated from all quarters for getting a location like Hyderabad. And from all what I had heard about the place from my peers this seemed like a great city to live in.

Lets get facts first. Whatever may be the claims to the contrary Hyderabad is not a cosmopolitan city. Atleast not from the one month experience of my friends and myself.

Our travails began right from the time we started looking for a house on rent. Now Hyderabad inspite of being such a developed city does not seem to have many professional real estate agents. Rather we have individuals masquerading as agents and trying to fleece IT guys. It was a real effort to locate a house which is decent & within your budget. Out here you are charged outrageous rents for even the most trashy of houses.

Coming from North India another thing that hit us real hard was the lack of cheap places where you can have north Indian food. Though if you are ready to shell out 100-120 rupees per meal then you have no dearth of choices. But come on!! 100 bucks for dinner?? Had a real hell of a time until we managed to locate a real nice Rajasthani restaurant. It was like an oasis in a desert for us :).

But it would be unfair to say that everything about the city is bad. There are some real good things about the city. The main city area is a great place to visit. Some good malls for shopping and hanging out. The Hussein Sagar lake is an awesome place for an outing. There is good crowd comprising of youngsters and especially girls :) out there. And the food out there is quite good albeit a bit expensive.

The Hussein Sagar Lake: Great place

The weather is a great plus point of the city. A cool breeze nearly all the time keeps the temperature in control. Have really enjoyed the weather to the hilt. And boy the Hyderabadi Biryani is a must have. Would definitely put on hold all your curses on idli, sambhar, rasam, dosa...

I could go on & on....the rubbish traffic, no driving sense in people but then you tend to take that with a pinch of salt........Enjoy the good with the bad!!

Over & Out for now,

Shubham