Sample check

We humans have a dual nature. On one hand we pro-claim ourselves as the “social animal” who has now become social networking animal rather. But we all in some small corner of our mind have a list of people whom we desperately want to avoid bumping in. Take your pick from the list.

1.Pissed off ex-girlfriend, nothing can be more frightful than her demonic scorn. In olden days, it could have burnt you to the ground. And don’t believe the Non-Disclosure agreement either; it worked in fifty shades only.

PG2

2.Colleagues, who side stepped you to promotion. You will move heaven and earth not to be in their team.

3.Profs, whose courses you flunked. You may be a big shot manager by now, but you will always try not bump into him/her during the alumni meet.

4.Neighborhood Uncle and Aunty, who know your academic record like Sachin’s centuries.

5.Relatives and family friends; whose wards have foreign degrees and can’t stop bragging, “My betu bought this/that from US for me”.

6.Cousin, who had the same crush as yours. It gets awkward to be the first ones to like her every pic on FB.

7.Few school and college friends you no longer feel connected to. There is nothing common except old and repeated stories.

8.Your dealer, if he is under arrest.

9.Landlord knocking at the door in morning, when you have a friend who happens to be a girl over for a small “night cap”.

10.Former classmate, whose “Diaper-Delivering” start-up just got a funding of 1 million from a VC, while you bide your time napping and day dreaming in your cubicle .

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Knowledge is Protection . . .

Very Informative…

Sotil

Image

You can never tell who’s got HIV! Anyone can be HIV+ and not know it- including you! People who are HIV+ can speak any language, be young or old, skinny or hunky or curvy. I’ll be honest and tell you the reason as to why I am writing about this topic. It is based on a true incident in Delhi. Alok and his four friends had just completed their first year of management in 2013. For their semester break, they were crossing Delhi where they unanimously decided to halt at a red light area just to experience the fun for the first time! They hired a sex worker that night and booked a room in a lodge nearby. The next morning, after paying the worker, they departed for their homes. A week later Alok became suspicious of the activity which they had undergone and questioned about its safety. Very hesitatingly…

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Writing Marathon….Saturday Night

I have finally decided , that enough is enough  and lets stop day dreaming and do something concrete.What are my major goals:

To get published before this year ends, well that’s  along term plan.

Before this month ends , I need to come up with 3 stories  , one play in English….and clear cut plan for my novel “Project Irfan” and I want to open a Bookshop cum Cafe named kashmir Book Shop in near future.

And also loose 5 Kgs by the end of this month and go regularly to GYM morning 6 am to 7 am for next 10 days.

But today on this Saturday night I want to start and finish a story write here right now…

But   do I have an Idea, any outline???…I have a couple , normally when I start penning down a story , I start  very enthusiastically  , but somewhere in the middle I loose the plot and then it adds to the list of unfinished symphonies and becomes a source of pain rather than joy. But having finished another couple of books of Archer/Satyajit/Bond, I am confident I can hold my ground this time around and not let the story overwhelm me.

Lets see how that starts

Dated: 15-02-2014…11:38 PM

After a lengthy discussion with my flat mate on the my future , I finally did what i was itching to do from the last 2 months. I finished writing a story after a marathon 1.5 hour non stop writing . I normally type my pieces  in my laptop , but this time I was like  in a trance and I grabbed whatever was close to me , lest I loose  it again
It was a story I had heard long back. I still remember  how that story changed my views about ghosts and everything and how my father had to accompany to washroom that night. I was so frightened after that.

I hope I was able to do justice to the story. Most of it is in first person, and that “flow” problems which I was facing have been partially resolved and I hope my lines will make your brain Imagine  the  various situation and places the story goes into. I have finished its end this time. I have an incomplete novel and 10 other stories lying  in an obscure folder on my company’s lappy. But this time I have gone a bit ahead . The only thing different I did this time was think through the whole story and imagine those things happening to me. Suddenly the fear of another In-complete story was over and a sense of adventure started. All the shitty thoughts took a back seat and only the story remained in my damaged brain. My heart beat followed the ups and downs of the protagonist and it was a treat writing about 12 pages in a single go.

Though forgot to order dinner and now at 11:38 PM all we have are a few loafs of bread left, and my hand is paining a lot.

Now ,tomorrow I will finally type it out and edit . I may have to  read the grammar again and a check for “primary level” blunders in my piece. Its difficult though , but one has to made it readable …..

Outbursts of a Bookaholic

In my day dreams in which I imagine myself in a number of scenarios (Including the one in bed with Katrina), the one which is feel is achievable (In real life) is to write a book review. I am often surprised to find people around me who don’t read much and whenever some guy wants to take up a new book I am usually the guy who they ask for a few comments first. But my reading is not structured,   its  pretty eclectic, so people often frown when they  find out that I have not read this famous blah blah author.
I often think(read daydream) how good it would be if I quit my job and just  make my living writing reviews, because I read on an average 3 to 4 books per week. But who has the energy to bring that change, recently a bug of short stories has made home  in  my wobbled brain, and talking about brains; It was only yesterday when my sister called me up and said that  she saw a brain of an addled person  in her lab. I asked how you differentiate by seeing a person’s brain whether it’s addled or normal. She said that if your frontal lobe is a bit deformed you are abnormal and if it’s  highly convoluted like a kernel of Walnut you are smart or a criminal. I wish I could know how my frontal lobe looks (without suicide of course). Let’s see as Agnishikha climbs up the ladder of her chosen profession, she may find an answer to this request , but by that time  I believe the world would have gotten the answer (as my flat mates got it). Let’s leave that to posterity
(In between writing I have received a mail about the open complaints against my name, let it remain unread for I have something very interesting to share and a life of my own too)
 So, let’s come back to short stories. Well frankly, the stories with the most surprising endings belong to the two authors who have been at least incarcerated twice by the judicial system of their own countries for genuine crimes. Both of them were slippery in handling large amount of cash and ended up as KONVICTS. Yes you are wrong, I was talking about the Living legend Lord Archer and the master of twists (Not Nano), O’Henry. If you haven’t read Henry’s “After 20 years”, please contact me so that I can unfriend you on Facebook and delete your Bio/contact details from my brain and my Tab.
It’s such a compelling story that the first time I read my mouth was agape after reading the twist in the last line. It was marvelous and he did it after spending 5 years in jail for a crime he indeed had committed (what were you expecting). And even after that he has written quite a number of stories like “A voice of the city”, it’s about the Big Apple and how a city like a human (genuine one) has voice which we all in our overtly dramatized LIVES  often IGNORE to our peril. He has both touched the inner cords of human bonding as well as handled the abstruse subjects equally well. He is one of my all-time favorites in the short story genre. The only reason I don’t have his books up my shelf is because they all are available online. I don’t know but it’s something related to the loneliness in jail that people often come out with a book. Like Gandhi wrote most of his best work in jail, Hitler also found Jail a place where he could finally write down all the bullshit he could ever think of, and even JL Nehru our Casanova cum Scholar leader wrote a huge part of Discovery of India in the same barracks.
But with the overflowing jails with no privacy at all, I hardly think any literary diamond can be forged in that coal mine in today’s time.
Let’s move to London now to discuss about Archer, his collections like “there by Hang’s a tale” produces both a feeling of envy and admiration for the pain he undergoes to present a simple tale in a way that can raise your hair to the end, change the color of your cheeks and ears (make them red of course) or increase your heart rate. All these have actually happened with me while reading his tales.
My friend Sankalp had once bought the entire collection of his short stories in a single volume; it has a sexy blue colored cover page with Archers name written in gold, it’s like a manual for story writing for budding lazy pseudo writers as I love to imagine myself while spending 12 hours a day involved in my JOB. In his introduction he often reveals that whether this particular story has been inspired by real incident or a product of his powerful imagination. So, it makes them even more interesting to read. Often due to his fame as a writer people come forth to confide in him their life stories which he then cooks adding all the spices he has up his sleeve and makes it palatable for us to relish. It’s his gift to convert any simple anecdote into an unforgettable story and his sales reflect that.
Now let’s turn back to the Indian subcontinent where “genuine” authors still make a pittance and people like Bhagat rule the roost which their half-baked pseudo Autobiographies in premier institution, I wonder if the setting of his 5 points would have been some local college and not the mighty IIT how would it have appealed to the youngsters. It somehow confirms the theory someone had propagated before that Indian youth are divided into two groups who make it in to the IITs and those who don’t and waste their lives feeling guilty about that. But when I read the shit Bhagat Publishes all my share of guilt vanishes and I feel pity for all the institutions whose name he has sullied by putting his bullshit on Paper. Had I been the President of this country I would have hung him upside down from the very gate of his college for the rest of his life so as to serve as an example to all those who think book sale is everything and not the content.
But apart from Bhagats/Roys/Kohli’s we have the legendary Satyajit Ray sir, who apart from a world class director (I am yet to watch any of his movies though) has written such an amazing collection of stories that you wonder how did he find  so much time to do all these things and also excel at them, when I can’t find time to even visit the local gym. I only recently discovered his collection in Pune, Pimpri to be precise. My friend Vikram who works in Pune plant took me to a crossword near his flat and by chance my roving eye fell on the cover of Satyajit’s Feluda stories. Feluda is the name of the protagonist, not that ice cream with noodles which was served in my hostel every wednesday. Feluda is based on Sherlock Holmes but it has more focus in describing the crime scene rather than the cold logic for which Sherlock Holmes still sells like hot dim sums, well thanks to Benedict Cumberbatch, he has actually brought the character alive. I wouldn’t have actually purchased it but the crossword actually allowed me to tear its Poly packing, so after doing this ceremony ,no bookaholic would replace it back on the shelf .I had to purchase it.And that my friends is my answer to the question,  my  mom  a PhD in Home finance asks “where are the savings from your salary?” and I always end up cutting a sorry figure.

To be continued……..with the “actual” review of “Memoirs of a Geisha” and why it has made me hate Japanese Culture and way of life…..till then…learn urdu

Travel notes and other bullshit

Its been like close to 4 weeks since I have vomited ,I mean since I have blogged .I don’t know why  my mind always relates a blog to vomit.Its actually analogous if you think deeper, a person vomits when his system is unable to digest something in the same way some people jot down their thoughts when they are unable to bear the aberrations around them.

So, what I was upto in the last 3-4 weeks. In my line of work which actually not a line but a typhoon which is engulfing me deep into itself;every time  some old bull is promoted, a new vertical or department is started to cater to his whims and creative inputs. Every cacophony that is invented up in the SHQ is to be  suffered by the lowest organism in the Pyramid ,but it is not actually a pyramid but more  like that multi headed dog like the one which used to guard   sorcerer’s stone in Harry Potter one  and we bear the pressure of its heavy bottom.

I had to travel to Pune for my module training.It was more of  hands on diagnostic training.Actually it was very good .We were actually given a problem in a Vehicle and made to solve it with the help of Manuals and circuit diagrams and figure out the course of action. First problem that was given to us went over our heads.We as CSMs are in a habit of barking down orders but this time around when we were  asked actually to diagnose the vehicle we quickly jostled to occupy rear seats in the spacious Aria and started  sharing the dirtiest jokes right from Hyderabad to Ludhiana , from Dehradun to Coimbtore…from Bengal to Ahmedabad.That’s the beauty of the Field service.People are strewn across India. I was recently transferred from the Hottest Hell in India to the Biryani Nagar. One thought that often used to cross my mind  during my stay that why on earth was Agra chosen as capital city by Mughals when in summers even the Jamuna decides to suicide.Why?? I may have to brush up my history again.

Secondly one question that troubled me at the time of my transfer was that how can a person(HR) decide where to throw(read place) 22 young single people across India without considering their choices and without knowing them,well an answer occured to me,he must have placed a map of India on the wall of his/her cabin and thrown darts at it with our names on it and my dart must have hit around Hyderabad.

 While our train was reaching Pune and then Pimpri ,both of us were hesitant to de-board the comfort of our Two Tier Ac compartment so we decided to break the law and get off at Lonavala. Well actually both of us had enough of Audits ,customer complaints and what not. So, we thought to do a bit of adventure in Lonavala. But first we had to find a cloak room to deposit our extra luggage . so, we asked at the ticket vendor about cloak room. She asked us to get small locks for our bags and come from backside to make the deposits.After receiving our receipts we embarked on a unforgettable journey which was cut short by a very small “thing”. But the problem was that none of us had been to Lonavala, plus our smart phones had one snag or the other, so without GPS or your Sweet Google to guide you , we decided to call our friend(that’s how people lived all these centuries without these Google Bastards).

So, we called one of much travelled friend who frequently visited Lonavala last year during our 4 month long stay in the heaven named Koregaon Park(courtesy: myemployers).
According to him Bushy Dam will  be the place to go.
Next  we hired an auto after much deliberations and haggling, he agreed on 150 bucks but like typical  Indian aunties we still pestered him.

But believe me  the road leading to Bushy Dam was awesome,there was a artificial lake  on the way, which had a wall towards the road. It was closed for public , don’t know the reason, and just after two three kms , you will find a small rusted board on your right pointing towards the Bushy dam. And even before we got down the auto, a old mataji  started selling her guava’s to us. Both of us politely refused .It was an ordinary half paved way, and you have to cross a dry nallah  first, then climb up  slope and few huge stairs and Lo behold the beauty is in front of you , the blue serene waters and the trees on the bank dispelled any of the misgivings we had while walking towards it. On the top there  was a  nimbu pani wallah, who was playing some old Dard Bhara Song. Suddenly a thought comes to mind , all the places which people visit with girlfriends be it Nainital, Bhimtal or the Taj Mahal  I always end with some male friends.In India its is like “Yarran da tashan” but in some other more civilised parts of the world  this might be considered as queer.

To reach it banks you must walk around the corner of the boundary wall that holds the water. An then climb down towards the bank. Our only luggage was our Laptops which had sucked the life out of us. We just had dropped our bags that Arpit got a call from  he-who -must -not -named.Today he had decided to take a review of a set-up Arpit was looking after , so he was ordered to send the performance excel sheets of the last six months . I have no doubt that HE himself could have downloaded the data in less than 10 minutes, but then what’s the fun of being called the Boss. I suggested to Arpit to take his sim card out and enjoy the serenity of lake.But he decided to take out his 20% battery left company provided laptop, logged in and and again proved that bonded labour still exists.

I know I am sounding like an pompous ass, but given the circumstances ,I  would have done the same.

Take a look at the lake.

I have often found myself asking smart people that why does a large water-body calms your inner turbulence.
Is it like its restless yet restricted domain resonates with our most basic structure or do we just relate with the small continuous waves that strike the shore as the millions of futile thoughts which vanish at the first instance of action.Well, I  need to spend some nights on this problem.

So, now I have positioned myself under the canopy so that I can type these lines.
I would like to the mention that trip is completely sponsored by my employers though they wanted it to be  single day affair.But then we with our ingenuity have converted it into a one day homey moon.While Arpit was compiling the bullshit data One couple   made a  sneering  comment again in some alien language all we could catch was “ Some something Laptopaaa” followed by laughter, with my one comment on his wife  with her  tight jeans and noodle hair, I could have killed their laughter for at least a month , but I was too much engrossed in my own thoughts to be bothered by their remarks.
On my left side , there is couple , BF-GF , they are clicking photos of each other in as many as poses possible.I wonder if either of them is plotting for Divorce after this trip. As soon as she stands up, I miss a heart beat , for she is exactly as tall she is  .I look up to the clear blue sky, as if he is looking down upon us, why dude?? Why don’t you let me enjoy the beauty of nature and let me forget that pain, but some how the wind takes up speed and immediately makes a howling sound across my ears ,as if carrying his answer “FUCK OFF”.I  smile to myself 

 A girl sitting on a rock on  my right  a about  100 meters away is looking at me on and off , she’s cute, a bit heavy  with  round face and curly hair, She is part of a group but sitting a bit away from them. I am guessing its an official  picnic,  on which you don’t want to go but you have to. All of his group is busy clicking photos of each other with a  tree as if that  it is a pole in a strip bar. She looked embarrassed.So, before I embark on another misadventure I turned my thoughts inside.

There is a small cottage across the lake, I wish I had  such a cottage to my self where I could visit once in a year spent two or three months alone and write my heart out. It is covered by a canopy of trees of trees  and with small brown hills against its backdrop it is looking amazing .Had you been there with me you could have  got a better idea why I desired that cottage more than that curly haired chick who was left disappointed by my lack of initiative despite her continuous stares.

So ,we spent about an hour staring on the blue waters oblivious to all the chatter couples were making and then we decided to visit another tourist attraction, again we dialled the number of the same old friend who suggested some Tiger point. As soon we walked out on the main road, we saw small hill and decided to do a bit of hiking and lets see how far do we manage to climb and forgot  about that tiger hill expedition.

The brown grass and the small hill were inviting us and after climbing 11000 feet last year in Uttarkashi(courtey TSAF) it seemed like puny mound of earth. So, without a second thought we started our trail on the unbeaten path.


Blazing sun and brown grass made the journey great, and it was feeling like a pilgrimage to some place we both were unsure , but something made  us to undertake the trek .

After the steep climb there was a flat portion which we crossed quickly and reached the other end of the lake.

And that my friends was  one of the best views of the water body.

After clicking some more pics we continued on the unknown path.After covering about 300 meters while I was climbing a small rocky surface  my eyes widened at  the sight of a very small green coloured Snake with two red strips on its body  who was in a attack position,I shouted out and ran.Had it decided to run after me, you would  have read about this adventure posthumously from some friends or in a News paper.

” Young engineer killed by wild- life while looking for the meaning of Life “

Would have been a hell of a headline.So, in this way we finally understood that all those whistles around us were actually lunch calls by snakes as we has invaded their homeland at the wrong time and in wrong  season wearing sandals and carrying laptops.

So, we did what Punjabis call, “chetti chetti”   and cursed Paulo Coelho while climbing down.

 For I  had just followed the bloody omens.

I love toads……

One look at Surya and you will find a decent looking, small stature person, wearing rimmed  spectacles, Square face, with a resolute chin.  His hair is all dishevelled after a 15 mile ride in an Auto Rickshaw from Atapur  to Punjagutta Chowk.  So, rather than a professional , he looks  more like a guy who  has been fired ,he has a small bulge in his belly, not uncommon for professionals in his company, with all those daily allowances.
He looks likes the hundreds other backpack carrying, formal wearing professionals roaming here and there hailing autos, running after buses and cabs,  calling an end to another miserable day at work.
It’s all new for him, because at his previous location he was the only guy in the above mentioned attire.
Initially he was not very happy with the transfer, but it took only one Veg-Biryani at the Paradise to convince him otherwise, apart from the politeness and cooperative nature of the people (except the Auto –Rickshaw Walla’s).
Surprising , well yes, attribute it to the one odd stroke of luck in this life or his  own accurate  self –assessment, he has chosen for himself quite a less trodden path for Engineers.
Not that he had planned for this.
His work if we start to explain going by his own admission  has no end or start.
One day you may find him inspecting the toilets for cleanliness like a Municipal Inspector, the next preparing joint inspection reports with some hot shot technical guy. He is also required to resolve the Disputes between the customer and the  car dealer as if he some ombudsman .Even after this much of process and paper work he is expected to have astute diagnostic skills so that he should be able to identify the vehicle trouble by  just hearing its noise.
Other than this he has to resolve the HR problems of the workshop employees. He for them is a star , a standard against which they measure everything. But in reality he is just a half baked engineer, who has just learned to survive the college life with a sharp tongue and XEROX notes.
Out of the blue, his face begins to lose colour, as if something had stung him and he was trying to brave it.
But the pain was too obvious; the hardening of  jaw muscles were the indicators of the effort it was taking him not scream his heart out.
Then he decided to do what he has been too afraid to do from the last 3 months.
One ring, two rings, third ring…..and it begins
 “Hi, how are you?”
“I am good. But I can’t hear you properly. Where are you, there is so much noise in the background, are you outside?”
“Yes, I am waiting for an Auto near a crossing”
“Firstly you never call for like ages and when you call it’s always from these crowded places only? We can talk when you reach home”
“No, wait.(He takes a deep breath)It’s like when I am surrounded by a sea of people , my heart starts to ache for one person I want to see more than anyone on this earth.”
 Thanks.  I could never figure you out completely”.
“So, how’s life?”
“Dead”
“Hey don’t say like that, I told you na, no one dies for anyone, life goes on”
Well mine’s stalled, “When is the D-DAY?”
Silence for 3 minutes
“13th
  He grinds his teeth, breathes fire…..
Even in this din and noise this sentence of her puts a vacuum in between Surya and world, for a second he is unable to even feel anything .His body goes numb. He mentally curses himself for calling her. He always gets these anxiety attacks by calling her. You never learn son of a bitch.
There is a surge of anger inside him, a feeling he never experienced before, its like the rage the Lord Shiva must have felt when Sati had jumped in the fire before opening that 3rd eye.
“Are you there?”, she asks.
“Yes, I am good, take care, and got to go”
On the Brink of tears “Ok bye, I will call you later”
“Please don’t”
“Bye”. Just in time so that he doesn’t hear her crying
She immediately rushes towards the bathroom, with her hand on her mouth to muffle the sobs, she wails and cries. Those muffled cries which nobody but he can understand, why this had to happen?? Why?
Why God gives you such blessings and then takes them away as quickly as they come?
But then she stands up, looks up in the mirror;the red eyes, the swollen lips. She washes her face again and again. Takes a deep breath and tries to relax. Her cousins are waiting outside for her to select the saris  and jewellery for them. She puts on a fake smile and rushes outside.
Surya is 1500 KMs away from her in an unknown city.
He just stares in to the gravel beneath his feet and thinks, what would it take to get her back in my life?
He is brought back to this world by the shouts of an auto Walla.
Auto wallah is a lanky man in his early twenties, wearing a cap; with as much of holes as the cheese in Tom n jerry. His longish face which ends in a small extended chin like the beard of Pharohs  that could have been  considered handsome had he dressed a bit better, not that striking, but enough to get yourself a GF.
“Aein bhaiyaan kaha ko jayenga??”
“East  Maredpally, near Chenoy nursing home” but hell will do okay.
“100 rupayian lagenga”
Surya, who was too tired to haggle, got in without a word of protest.
He always enjoyed travelling alone; he could just stare at the moving mass of men and vehicles
 And let his mind think about the questions which are eating him up from inside.
What he wants? Why is he always unhappy? Why? Why??
It was raining and traffic was as usual moving like an overfed serpent
 “Aye bhaiyan, Mai iddrech hun,English me kaisa bolna ka” in typical Hyderabadi style.
 “I am here” ,smiles.
“ Matlab?”
 “I am here in Begumpet.”
“Theek theek(okay,okay) Aye aam heer,acha”
“Tumhari girl friend puchti h kya?” Chuckling (Does your girl-friend asks this from you?)
“Han Bhaiyan,bahut hi-fi h wo, saali pata nai kiddreech se padi h”
“hahahaha”
It brought back happy memories of the time he was trying to teach the nuances of Kashmiri language to Nanu in the college park, ….aaah that park…..that park had a small dirty pond at the centre, full of toads and every time they walked around that pond a toad would jump in front of them and Nanu used to cling to him, her eyes shut and shrieking, and for that moment he used to feel gratitude not only the toads but their whole phylum. 
For that touch used to make his day.
He never knew it, but Nanu used to dissect toads by a single slash of her blade in her Under-grad lab, she was braver than he was in all respects. But then she just never bothered to tell him.
But the honking of an over eager biker brought him out of his reverie back to this cruel, wet and static reality that he is not going to spend the rest of life with her, that he will not be able to even see her for the rest of her life after D- DAY, that he has to learn to live without her, day after day after day.
This thought shook him from the core and he sulked back in his seat, looking like a man who has weathered too many storms.
From a small drizzle it has begun raining, which makes traffic even more difficult to move. So, the bored Auto walla again prods him into a conversation.
AW: So, what do you sir? In typical Hyderabadi.
Surya: I am the guy who comes to your rescue when you get cheated at a car workshop.
AW: Oh, I thought you are a computer person…
To be continued….some later day………….

PS: Go ahead and make that “call”
It’s a piece of fiction.

KRRISH # whatever…

“4.30 pm show, PVR, second last row, you coming? Arpit asked.
“Ask Sid”, I replied.
“I am asking you”
“Okay”
“Done”
Then he went to Sid’s room.
“Krish, 4.30 show”
“Ok”, said Sid, “but I have booked bus tickets for Chennai”.
“What is the boarding time?”
“9 PM, near Paradise circle”
“Ok, it will be over by then”.
“Cool”
“Its 2.30 Pm now, we will leave in an hour”
“Okay boss”, came the reply from both the rooms in unison.
“Your wish is my command master”, I added.
I can’t recall from which movie I picked it up, but it kind of sounds funny in these situations.
After one Hour:
“Get ready people or we will be late”, Arpit.
“Just let me smooth these wrinkles on my T-shirt” I replied.
“Don’t forget to unplug the iron, after you are done with it”
“Aye Aye Captain”
“I am ready” said Sid.
“Okay”
“Let’s roll”.
On the building we hail for Auto Rickshaws, after a few no-responses, one Auto stops in front of us.
 “How much till PVR”
“150”
“No way, 150 is till Jubilee hills, for Punjgutta, it’s not more than 70”
“120”
“80”
“110”
“90”
“100”
“Done”
And after this masterful haggling by Sid.(We are still paying him 40 bucks extra over metered charges). We hop in.
The auto has some issue with its engine, as soon he accelerated , instead of moving fast, a lamberata type sound came, which made us chuckle.
“Bhaiya jaldi chalo movi 4.30 ka h, aaj hi dekhna h”, Sid in his inimical accent.
“Cinema …something in telugu….jadli nako, time h, time h
Again he accelerates, again we chuckle.
Every vehicle, be it the motorized or otherwise was moving ahead of us.
We were talking about something that happened at work during the day, and as all honorable north Indians, B-word escaped my lips.
Sid widened his eyes, pointing towards the driver, as Telugu people have sensitive ears in this respect.
And it took no time.
“Chickna  gora ladka……something… something …UP Rajasthan….something…gaali nako…something   something….”
“Sorry uncle, I was in UP for 8 months, it will take some time”, I sheepishly apologized.
I don’t know what he replied, but something about, small city, 5 km diameter, 24 years….no idea.
But one thing was clear; I have to unlearn abusive words which now have become an integral part of speech in my Hindi.
Luckily my Kashmiri is fine; even after 5 years of exile from home I still manage to have a conversation in chaste Kashmiri
I daily practice it.My Mom calls me twice a day to check on me.
Now we finally reached our destination on time.
Screen No. 5-Krish 3.
But we had no breakfast, so Sid joined the food counter queue to get us some lunch.
One cold stale burger with Popcorn (250 gm) and Coke (250 ml), this was the cheapest combo worth 330 Rupees, and my mind started calculating how many days of groceries we could have purchased.
But nevertheless, these question are not be asked, when you have received salary just six  hours back.
Till that time I engaged myself in checking out the crowd.
Couples with kids, couples with no kids and couples about to have kids in a couple of month, all kinds of couples; uncles and aunties, grandmas and grandpas.
Except the Biryani (Veg of course), there is not much a north Indian can look for, especially a single guy. No offence to Andhra chicks.
So, we picked our trays and moved faster towards the screen, my Hot Dog was to be delivered at my seat during the movie.
Theatre was quite grand this time; one could hear the whispers and discussions kids were having regarding their super-heroes.
They must have been counting days to watch the movies.
People were munching popcorns and there was quite a bit of excitement around.
We easily found our seats.
I was sitting beside a 45-something guy, who was munching Nachos, and surprisingly he was alone.
I never used to notice these things, but my 8 month living alone thing makes me do that.
I had this urge to ask that man that how could he watch a movie alone.
Because in my line of work, you are mostly like a lone wolf in the jungle, but somehow, I didn’t. I could have done with a few tips
After 4 years of college, where you don’t even pee alone, watching a movie alone in a theatre and munching nachos too, is a feat that appears daunting to me. Though, I know a few friends in my Company who have become the masters at this art.

So, next the screen came alive .For next 15-20 minutes, we were seduced to purchase gold, Real-Estate ,credit cards, life insurance and what not in  Hindi, English and Telugu.I omitted the nagging Vicco Bajridanti —-vicco bajridanti….loop  because Arpit is a big fan of the brand, other wise,could have added  one more venomous  line …  
There was a dark handsome actor in one of the advertisements and I asked my friend a bit loudly that “Ye kaun h be”.
And even in this dim light I could see some heads turning towards me menacingly.
Oh he is some big shot, got it.
My Telugu colleague had advised me sometime before when I had knowingly passed lewd remarks at their all-too-revealing posters, that Telugu people don’t like funny remarks about their film industry.
Okay, so one more things added to my forthcoming novel 100 things you-don’t-say-in–Andhra
Finally the movie began.
I am just sharing some snippets which made me laugh.
And we started munching our 1000 rupees-worth-unhealthy-junk-food.
Frankly I had not seen Krish-2, though I had tried twice, but even then I could not help my dropping eyelids.
But an introductory keynote speech in the movie cleared all the doubts.
So, you can still watch if you have missed Krish 2 or K-2 for I failed twice to mount (watch it).
The movie starts with Father Hritik Roshan, conducting some experiment with mirrors and sunlight.
It reminded of me of the one of the experiment Leonard (from Big Bang theory, if you haven’ watched that, I forbid you from reading my blog) was conducting in his lab when Penny comes in and they end up having you very well know.
Anyways he made a ray of sunlight to be reflected from a number of well placed mirrors and then on to a very sophisticated tip of pen, which then gets activated and produces some even brighter ray which is directed towards a small welted potted plant. Initially green leaves start to appear but within a minute a blast occurs.
Son Hritik Roshan’s opening scene is shirtless well that was expected, his chiseled body is stunning.
I am left thinking that in order to achieve such physique, my body needs to be solidified and only then some sculptor can carve out the abs and cuts.
At this age, he is 40 something, such physique commands respect.
Next we see that our Hunk works as a security guard and he is fired the same day for dereliction of duty. He was busy busting the goons of the same shopping complex. Job always sucks.
This scene was really left everyone chuckling by the comic timing of Rajpal Yadav.
Next we see that an Aero-plane has some snag with the front wheel.
Its shock absorber  has jammed, this is preposterous, it doesn’t happen in even Indian  manufactured cars, what to say about Boeing (give me some credibility here)
I WONDER when Boeing is going to sue the Roshans.
But nevertheless, this scene apart from the shock absorber  twist is taken straight away from the Superman movie.
Had Sushter and Siegal(creators of Superman) been alive today, they would have happily crawled back to their graves  after seeing this.
But as expected our Krrish mustered all his powers and got the Plane to land safely. On the Airport, you get to see an Air India Plane parked.
I bet they did that unknowingly, seeing the current state of our Indian carrier, they can’t even afford the salaries.
Next shot that we see is some heart wrenching archived footage of an epidemic in some 4thworld country, which is put to use to describe a disease outbreak in today’s Namibia.
Researchers all over the world are trying to find the cure including Father Hritik Roshan who has been described as the last hope.
We get to know in a few minutes that this epidemic was man-made  and an International (but all employees were Indian) Pharmaceutical company whose head quarters instead of New York or Washington  were on a lonely hill in  Arctic circle was behind it. So far believable, but who names his company as “KAAL” Pharmaceutical .I don’t know about other countries, but in India no one will ever purchase his medicine from them for sure.
This is taken from the Mission Impossible 2, in which Cruise battles the fellow IMF agent (antagonist) for the chimera (disease) and bellarophon (antidote) which was made by a pharma named Biocyte FYI
The head quarters more than a company headquarter seems like an Observatory .But the Dog sledge scene was a testament to the fact that that the scene was not shot in India.
And the costume designer had no qualms of using the dress of White Witch from Narnia on Vivek Oberoi albeit the dark one, the only thing that was missing a tightly corseted cleavage (Censor board would have passed it, the way they pass all the Bollywood songs with expletives) and a wand.
So, till now three Hollywood movies have gone into the making of Krrish 3, so I hope you get why # 3 is more apt than Krrish Returns with new abs or Krrish Reloaded on Diwali.
At this time, I see some person in the dark trying to reach me fervently, don’t worry, I didn’t make passes at any lady .It was the Hot Dog Guy.
He  cautiously hands over me  the plate.
Finally something to eat, I take a bite at the bread and a bit of stuff in middle and the world comes crashing down. It’s not what I had ordered; in the dark I didn’t notice the fucking red dot. I immediately spit it out much to the annoyance of others. The lone wolf sitting beside me shifted seats after hearing the longest expletive ever invented in the land of five rivers. My friends started laughing. It felt as if I had tasted poison, how can Non-Veg people even gulp it down. I am at loss. But our scriptures mention that a mistake is not a mistake which is done in dark or unknowingly, that’s a tenet our rapists have followed  this financial year.
Thank God I was born in a family of Vegetarians by choice.
All I am left is with 250 ml Coke to satisfy my hunger and anger.
Back to the movie now, after this epidemic case is resolved, we come to know that it is Krish’s birthday. At the  the same time we get to know that Krrish 4 is also in the pipeline. Well, Priyanka Chopra is pregnant so isn’t is obvious. Wait for the #4 installment to spoil your Diwali in coming years.
But this happiness is short lived as mutants who are the unwanted results of Kaal’s experiments, attack their house.
No comments on mutants, they were pathetic. If you have watched any installment of X-Man, as Arpit had religiously done, you can even tell their names,Mystique and Kitty combo in Kaaya, toad, Xavier and Magneto combo as Kaal.
One thing which puzzled me, is that their home is in some hill station like Kasuali or Chamba, but they daily commute to work in Mumbai having seen the traffic situation there, is it plausible? I WONDER on that goof up, but continue sipping my drink.
You have to be fooled in order to be entertained, leave analytics at your home.
Another goof up which made me spill my drink was when Kangana replaces Priyanka as  Krrish’s wife. Kaal Is the result of some botched experiment with the DNA of Father Hritik Roshan , so it makes him biologically his son. Kaaya is also born in the similar way, which makes her the daughter of Kaal. Now that  Kaal and Krish are biologically brothers. So, how can Kaaya sleep with Krish, her handsome uncle? How did censor board pass this incest? I JUST WONDER and sip my warm coke.

There were many other scenes which attracted my wrath, but I am skipping that, because after watching it, I will not make you to relive that again.
And they even had a dance and song sequence which use the same location minus the trees which was leased during the shooting of Ghajini  (Tu meri adduri pyaas pyass), the only difference was that Krrish has  better cuts and the song has pathetic lyrics. I compose better lyrics than this while biding my time on a toilet seat.
After this the niece Kaaya betrays her dad Kaal and leads Uncle Krish to the SHQ (my colleagues will chuckle at this), in Arctic circle where Kaal has kept Priyanka her poor sister-in-law who is half an hour pregnant with Krrish#4.A fight breaks out between Kaal and Krrish ,but Kaal  uses to his  advantage the powers of both Mr. Xavier and Mr. Magneto in banging the skull of Krrish against every wall in the room.
He has finally found  out his long-lost-but-never-missed father in Father Hritik Roshan and as Voldemort was resurrected from  the bone of Tom Riddle his father, he also resuscitates from the handicap using the BONE MARROW of his father.
In an interview leading to the release Vivek Oberoi had mentioned that his suit weighed about 28 Kgs and was designed with a lot of craft.
So, I was hoping it will be up to the mark, but like my Hot Dog, it was pure crap, aluminium pieces with frayed ends can be obtained from the scrap of the Punching press in any auto-mobile plant even for  free.
And the way his Helmet was made, as if he was going to face Brett lee and Shoaib together.

A line comes to my mind often used in Dogri, ye to sirf soshein hai.

As expected our Kaal crushes Krish and leaves him fatally wounded.
But his father using that Pen that was used in the opening scene to blow life in the dead plant, gets the rays focused on Krrish, but it caused tissue damage to our hero, So he decides to filter the rays through him. A great sacrifice, but guess who would be happy to see him dead, ironically Hritik himself. It is not easy to play a childish-portly- middle-aged-man. With all that make up and manner of speech, really a class act, but too taxing when you are doing so many stunts hanging by that wire all day.
Then both the estranged brothers decide to take the party to town, where we get to see some Matrix like stuff, like stopping the bullets etc.
It is followed by an extremely well shot fight scene which was pretty interesting.The way the buildings were smashed and glass panes were crushed.HULK fans must be having all the fun.

But at the end,by a stroke of genious(of Rakesh Roshan) , Krrish decides to use the PEN and the Sun rays to corner the Kaal. Initially Kaal starts laughing when rays strike him.But the rays melt his suit and laughter, all  that is left of him is in a  motlen puddle of aluminium spread out on a debris.

Hence proved that 
“Pen is mightier than sword and all the mutations and even their combos possible “.
Disclaimer from the Author:
1. This article is a labor of love towards Bollywood directors , who in spite of the tiny budgets expose us to the sci-fi treats.
2.“Something something” has been taken from the Chetan Bhagat’s novel “Two states…”, just in case he decides to sue me.
3. I fully admire the Andhra beauties. (I don’t want to be single in AP).
4. I abhor Non-Veg food but not non-vegetarians, we are all the prisoners of our urges, please note.

Enjoy and do comment your reviews

Lance-Cheat-Strong

So, another hero fallen from the grace, he was an inspiration to millions across the world, the symbol of hope for cancer patients and sport-people.He was the guy who bought the cycling out of the French National TV to the world Stage.
Seven time champion, unblemished record. He is also the author of a number of books on his struggle against cancer and consequent triumph. He must be thinking twice on that now, huh.
There is a famous Quote by one of the former Prime ministers of UK
“You can fool some people all the time or all the people some time, but u can never fool all the people all the time”.
There are indeed hounds living within us who are deep rooted in the reality and who are not carried away by the fairy-tale stories of success. While the ordinary guys spends his life measuring himself against the standards of their fake success these hard-nosed people look into the trash bins of these .Salute to their passion and zeal in unearthing  the truth,come what may.
I too had my share of cheating; we all at some point or other are forced to do some correction for covering up the aberrations that prop up now and then. But what matters is how you are affected by that, after sinning or during the process. How your psyche reacts to your cheating, or how your perception of you as a person is affected. These are indeed meta-physical things but then this is how the things spell out. A small 250 odd gm split walnut kernel controls every twitch in the body, so we should be aware what goes into it. 
I  have an anecdote to share which was my first brush with cheating and how it backfired on me.
Once upon a time in college, me and my friends the close ones (who scored the same grades as me) by some lucky chance got the question paper of our final exam in my 7th semester, I will not mention the subject because then some of my college-mates may un-friend me on Face book. So it was it in front of me by the evening before the exams , sweet 10 questions written in blue ink on a plain A4 sheet, I checked  my Xeroxes whether I had the answers or not.So far so great. Now began the struggle. All my college life, I had average grades nothing fancy. It was always difficult for me put myself to study the Xerox copies.
So, accordingly it appeared to me as a boon. But was it? Let’s see.
The moment I got the paper, first reaction was yawn…Smiling of course, and then the three of us sat watching a newly released Bollywood movie. It took another 3 hours of our time. So, till 9 pm my brain cells were absorbing the audio-visual treat of Indian cinema. After 9 PM what next?  You grab your notes, run to your room, curse yourself for wasting time, get under the quilt and start mugging. Ideally that was the plan, but that was not meant to happen.
Now you must be thinking that why I am bringing this story up, the reason is that it was straight forward cheating on our part. And it was the closest I have ever come to this menace of cheating/embezzling/forgery etc.
So,next after leaving the cinema hall( I mean my friends room, lest Andaz Apna Apna may again get released), I picked up  my share of notes out of the pile and dragged myself out to study quietly in my room. I switched on the lights, pulled over the quilt , took good  5 minutes to decide in which position I should study, I mean on the table or on bed on my belly or the on my back with pillows propping up my neck. But it was indeed a useless exercise as with 5 minutes I tried all the three positions at least three times , o the writing on the wall was clear, I ain’t in the mood, it was like I had lost complete control of myself, I tried to instil fear into me thinking like may be the paper will get changed etc,you need best grades  and other useless stuff .But nothing of this worked within less than 10 minutes three of us were again in front of the laptop. Searching every NEW FOLDER (if you know what I mean)  ever created on the machine. But finally the old boys decided in favour of a time tested bond movie.So,again the Bitch named time sat on the rocket and boom , the clock shows 11.30 PM(Including 2 mini bio-breaks, and 1 very natural but hazardous calls from nature, blame the acidic hostel food). Its 11.30 Pm and yours truly is still motivating himself to study at least those questions that are actually going to come into the exam. Later on I figured it would have taken me just over 2 hours to mug them up, but alas we can connect the dots only backwards.  Then I figured that maybe I should take a nap and wake up in the morning too study, as if after waking up these are going to be any interesting, I put the alarm on my mobile as 4 am. And guess what,I woke up at  3.45 am, then again closed my eyes thinking that there is still time , and that was where the Battle of Waterloo was lost by Napoleon, next thing I know I am being woken up my friends just in time so that I can change in to some decent  clothes to leave for college , on the way I finally opened my notes and used probably for the first time in the history of mankind the 100% of my brain capacity to remember every conceivable jargon ever invented in that subject. But fortunately I had studied well in the previous hourly’s so there was 20% retention of those portions and I finally managed to score well (of course having good terms with the examiner helped) . So, having known the paper well ahead of time didn’t work out well for me or for that instance anybody. That was one of the very good lessons I learned the hard way during my four short years in college.
This was the comedy part, but what went inside me while I was roaming around with the LEVEL 3 Classified Paper. Believe me it was not good. The worst part was that I couldn’t due to some obvious reasons reveal the paper to others (I mean other than the two close friends who actually provided me with the Nuclear Secret). So that evening on dinner table I was actually for the first time having difficulty to have eye to eye conversation with my batch-mates. It was harrowing for a guy who was known to have a loose tongue in every respect.
Cheating never worked for me……fortunately

But here we come across a case of a Super Star whose entire extra-ordinary career is based on the foundation of cheating, bullying and deceit. The  guy who doing this also made remarkable quotes, wrote fancy auto-biographies, which indeed became New York times best sellers; read “ It’s not about the bike” of course  it was  about the Syringes, “Every second counts”  may be each shot .
I recently watched the video of Lance’s interview by Oprah. Oprah Winfrey is an Afro- American icon, her talk show is one the most watched shows in America.  And going by some surveys she is currently the most powerful or influential women (beats Sonia Gandhi, Mamta Banerjee and Behenji quite surprising). I had never just taken notice as I had no intention of listening to the blabbering personalities. But believe me she is quite a woman. Her interview with Lance was as if Chitrgupt from the Heaven itself had incarnated just to interrogate him.
And there was no warm up period given to the Champion, questions were shot from the word go. Within just five 20 seconds one gets to know the tone of the interview, she was the DOMNATRIX right from the beginning. The bully was being bullied.  The most exciting or you can say the controversial part which people were looking forward to see was the confession part. Had it been a Indian talk show, our Coffee with Cougar (no pun intended) would have kept that part for the last and may be for week till the channel got its share of eyeballs , but surprisingly this was the first Jacuzzi launched in line of many.
“Yes or No”
 There was no lie-detector test, one look to Lance’s face answered it all, and yes he had done it.
He had cheated the whole world into believing his Herculean triumph.
We the fools……

Transformation ………..

 It was like just another day in my “Amazing” life as Trainee in the ” Amazing”  Tata Motors.
 Bus dropped me at a walking distance from my building. There is park on the way. I used to hit the track regularly in the park  a few weeks back. It also had its own reason. My timing always “co-incidently” matched with the entry of a Hot chick. So, if she started running clockwise, my direction obviously would be anticlockwise or vice-verse . I always ran fast enough to cross her twice per round. But after 4 weeks of “BOLTING” , backaches and calf pulls , she didn’t as much as look at your humble servant . My body finally refused to obey the orders from some vague part and finally the drudgery came to an end. 
At the entry gate of the park there is also a Momo wallah. After 6 pm there is a literally a stampede for the momos/dimsums.  But today me and my flat mate were the first ” Boney customer” for the Momo wallahs. 
He asked to wait for about 10 -15 minutes in the park till our order was ready. No problems here. Its always  good to occupy a nice bench and appreciate the bounties nature has blessed us with. So far so good. There was a variety of people in the park, but majority were with Blank looks and ID cards hanging from their necks , the oppressed class to which i proudly belong  to( abi sirf training chal rahi h tabhi).
We both were sitting silently on the bench, which is impossible had two females been sitting there.
But after some time a young technocrat caught our eye. He was talking so loudly on phone that it didn’t require sherlockian skills to decipher what the conversation was about.
We both exchanged looks and sighed .It was the same gf-bf saga 
kuch to….
suno to….
maine nai…..
sorry ….sorry …Tear- your- hair- apart wala sorry

 It seemed as if he was fighting a court battle for a mass murderer who has pleaded guilty without his knowledge. There was no point. He was getting brick brats from i don’t know which coordinates on earth, but his voice was getting lowered step by step.
So, finally we thought that he had  lost the already lost battle. Maybe for us it was comedy circus but the way he was looking it must have been a matter of life and death. After such a bout of exertion even Muhammed Ali would have asked for water .Our young technocrat found himself a bench next to us .Both his hands were on the bench and his head was pointing towards the heaven.Strangely instead of grim melancholic expression he was as if suppressing a smile.He brought his gaze down from the heaven and took a deep breath and relaxed. The transformation was remarkable.As if some different soul had entered his body. He loosened a button of his shirt , ruffled his hair  and started to whistle. Something inside me was utterly surprised at this spectacle and as soon as i  stood to talk to this Guy.
We heard another whistle , from the momo guy. Steaming overpriced  Momos with Gun Powder Paste were waiting for us.
Hunger pangs won over the curiosity as usual.

LIFE IS STRANGER THAN FICTION-PART I

I often used to ponder upon the above thought; can life be any stranger than a man’s imagination? There have been numerous examples where the vagaries of life have shocked us beyond reason, but still one can only appreciate it only when something strange happens in his own life or with someone he is very close to. One of the major black spots of our logical brain is the inability to fully understand complexity of relationship with people around us, there is no mathematical formula or a theorem which can cover the entire range of permutation and combination our mind does in a relation or is forced to do so. So finally cut the philosophical bullshit and let’s come to the point, I have an amazing story to tell, but it’s not mine, it happened with my closest friend, while we were travelling in a train chair car- Sampark Krantii. His seat was on the window side , but i was too quick to for him as always to let him have the pleasure of cool wind through my hair, only to regret it later. After 15-20 minutes the kranti began its journey from Smokey Lalkuan to Delhi. We had to appear for the our first job interview for a company which has a Japanese brain and Indian Skelton which got badly shaken in Maneser. So along with my dad’s tie I had also squeezed two production engineering books in my bag, with the hope that without even preforming welding ever, I will be able to master it during the five hours of second class Indian rail travel.
Well how much were we successful is the burden of this story. As all great authors do, let me begin with the character sketch of the hero of the story. We both had first met in the thermodynamics lab which is now a museum for outdated boilers and crank mechanisms, he was wearing metal rimmed glasses and a Tollywood style moustache. Nearly 6 feet tall, he was looking out of place in the land were 6 feet is a rare feat. It was his first day, but there was no sign of any nervousness while he started chatting with us within 5 seconds of his arrival, actually he got ambushed by a group of nasty charged up seniors before coming to class, who bombarded him with all forbidden words ever invented in the land of five rivers. It was his first time so he was quite shocked. I don’t know why he took a fancy for me and stuck with me all the time. He actually joined the course a few days late, so I was the victim of his insatiable curiosity about this god-forsaken place .
After three and half years , we are at same point where we began, the fear of ragging and teachers has now been replaced by placements, competitions, GPAs, future and what not. There is no respite in life, it’s just like in video games- you have to move from one stage to another, but in life there are no extra chances. We imagine that after achieving this or that, we will become somewhat different or we will begin to enjoy life more. Well, I don’t disagree with the sweetness of success, though I have forgotten its taste since matriculation, but this is an illusion of the Maya or Matrix that keeps us plugged in, forever shielded from our real higher purpose. Are we living a life driven by reason? Well the answer is no. We are driven by our egos, urges and habits. Why can’t we live a life which is under our control? Why can’t we transform from Mr. Anderson to NEO? These are just the tip of the iceberg, there are tons of unanswered questions which our mind asks, ponder on these and the purpose of my blog is complete.
Let’s get back to the bogey number D9 of Krantiji. My friend has a very nagging habit of making fun of people, in other words, he has a real lethal sense of humor which can infuriate anyone to the point of blows, but his intentions are innocent, he likes a laugh now and then, but by the time you realize this fact he has already stripped you of your mask and either you fall for him or you begin to hate him. If someone tells me to plot the graph of his life, I will simply draw a range of mountains, because everything with him is simply extreme- full of peaks and pitfalls most of which are his own creations. Well his native state is always on the front page due to extremism, so it should not come as a surprise.
Within half an hour of train safar, I began to feel for my books, they must have suffocated, so let’s air them. Aakash our hero (name changed to protect identity), initially refused to take any of the two books in his guardianship, but after getting bored of bird watching, he decided to unravel the mysterious difference between shaper and planer. He was itching to unload his pressure on any hapless person, but unluckily there was no one ready to take the bait. But wait, there was a ceaseless chatting and laughing going on the seat next to us. Two girls were watching some farewell videos on their laptops and laughing as if they were watching The Simpsons or Scooby doo. Aakash was curiously staring both of them. But both looked like veterans of eve -teasing and they ignored his staring on their laps and tops. But fate had something else in store for Aakash . He usually never likes to have conversations with strangers, again because of his lethal sense of humor, so there was thin chance of any sparks.
Out of the blue, a cop appeared with a ladies’ purse and began to ask for its owner. It caught the attention of all the bored passengers except the chicks, who were busy with their ceaseless chatting, oblivious to everything around them.
When the cop came to their seat with the purse, one of the chicks suddenly shrieked. It that was her purse. When she had opened her laptop bag, the purse must have slipped and slid to cop’s seat- how lucky, but instead of feeling embarrassed or shocked, they started laughing more and more, now they finally caught the attention of Aakash . But he still was not passing any comments quite shocking na! Maybe the pressure of interview had killed his killer instinct. But meanwhile, he was also trying to fill his brain with some technical bullshit, just in case he survives more than one minute in the interview.
Now I again got lost in the world of welding and gear manufacturing, but what brought me back was the giggling of the girls on our hero’s comic timing, I caught him by the neck.
Me: What’s going on man?
Aakash: Arey just nothing, she owes us 2 rupees I paid for her bisleri, so I am making fun of her worth at least 2 rupees!
Me: Okay, but please don’t cross the line, I don’t want to add sexual harassment case to my resume, remember that.
Aakash: Chill man, you know how much I have changed .
Me: Yup, who knows that better than me?
Aakash: Don’t you worry buddy, continue with your welding while I am entertaining the passengers.

Well both Aakash and the cocky chick sitting next to him had become the cynosure of every body’s eyes. Most of the people shut up when they realize that everybody is listening to their silly conversations, but not our hero. This thing adds fuel to the vulgar jokes search engine in his head. One thing leads to another, and suddenly two people with equally venomous tongues were dueling each other in the bogey number nine of Sampark Kranti. Every single soul in the compartment had his ears perked up, listening to their sharp taunts and comments on each other, it was like a movie shot from any other Bollywood movies, the only difference was that the dialogues were created instantly and delivered like hot pizzas in full public view. He had finally found his counterpart who was equally adept at making fun of others, so it was like the clash of titans, It was honey to my ears whenever she got the upper hand at him, but gradually they were cooling off and turned on the lesser mortals like me and her more cute and silent friend. He introduced me as big hot shot singer of the college, as soon as these words left his anemic lips, both girls jumped and asked for my autographs on their soft palms, had it been a eating joint or some other rendezvous, I would have thanked lord, but here with 100 eyeballs on me, I simply refused. They started enquiring about my singing capabilities and career, and before I could even part my lips to answer, Aakash had begun my biography.
To be continued………………………………………………………………