It’s a jolly bright morning and you are brushing your teeth, with groggy eyes, yearning for coffee and some print on the newspaper, when suddenly you hear the beeping of your mobile. Unless you are Shane Warne or somebody who dreads his infamous messages, most living beings on earth leave whatever they are doing and lunge towards the device. Some even secretly hope that their number was one digit away from John Abraham or Bipasha’s and that the message just found its way to them.

Oh whatever….Most of the young hip public loves their SMS. Some even resort to tube feeding to be able to message those urgent lovable messages to their crush, the person next door, the librarian, you get the picture. So the whole idea is we love to SMS and especially wait for an SMS. The beep on the mobile is turning out to be the sweetest thing ever heard on this planet.

Or is it?

Maybe there is a change in scenario. So while you ran out with the toothbrush in your mouth, toothpaste dripping from your teeth while Dad decided that the genes definitely got misplaced and lunged at your mobile and pressed ‘Show’, you stare at the mobile for a long time.

It is the ninety-ninth message from your service provider urging you to join their oh-so-hot cinema special service for an amount that sounds like half your monthly bus fare. Do you want to know who loves whom? Who fell off the stairs while shooting? Why X colored her hair natural blonde finally? Of course, you do. Otherwise how will the telecom industry progress? How will that add to the growth of the economy? Yeah right…..

The amount of exercise in deleting all those ninety-nine messages comes in handy. You are called for using TVs with jammed remotes, stuck lift buttons and grinder buttons. Speak about thumb power. There are definitely more smiles per push for you!

Coming back to the messages, they do get infuriating. The latest one that had smoke coming out of my ears went something like this….

“Are you intelligent? Message to….. at Rs.x per SMS and find out.”

Exactly. That is the power of technology. You need not think anymore. Want to find out if you are intelligent? Just SMS. Will it rain tomorrow? Just SMS. Has the milkman come yet? Oh…just SMS.

I am scared to think of a future where SMS rules the roost. Some very critical conversations would be like this.

At the techno-park:

Girl: I think we need to talk.

Boy: Oh! Why? I thought we were going great guns.

Girl: Not anymore. I checked our compatibility via SMS today. We are at 0.1. I must be better off with a Pisces.

Boy: What?

Girl: What is your friend Varun’s number?

At the hospital. Outside the maternity ward.

Husband: What happened?

Nurse: Congratulations…..

Husband: …

Nurse: ….

Husband: Well, where is the rest of the dialogue? Is it a boy or a girl?

Nurse: I am sorry but you will have to SMS to find out. At just Rs.10 per SMS. It is the festive offer, you see…..

Husband: What???

With all respect to the medical fraternity, I am sure that day will never dawn.

Anyways, there is always the simple option of deleting the message. Of course, you don’t do things that simple. It is human nature to fuss, brag, curse and blog on every little thing if you are bored. I guess it kind of summarises this post. ;)

Gotta go, think my mobile just beeped…

One of the good things about growing up at Mumbai is the getting to know the many different people who form this wonderful metropolis. There are people of different castes, creed, religion and status who make a wonderful melange of society to interact with.



One of my good friends was a certain very sweet and smart Miss Negi. Like most friendships forged at school, ours also started by exchanging pencils and rubbers. Both of us stayed in the same colony and soon we became really good friends. And when you become good friends, it is a compulsory rule that you spend more time at the friend's place than your own until your parent's ask for identification before you enter your house. (I am getting really good at lousy PJs).



Anyways, the point is how I got to taste ekdum mast Chai at Ms. Negi's place. Ms. Negi hails from the wonderful valleys of Kinnaur and looks Chinese enough to be called chow-mein. But afterall, her wonderful dil is Hindustani or rather Kinaur i. And so through her, I came to be acquainted with Kinnaur, its wonderful apples, dry-fruits, chicken with roti, moong chawal and the best of them all-yummy yum Kinnauri Chai.

I don't know if the tea is actually called Kinnauri tea but let's just keep it that way for now. Now Kinnauri tea is a very unusual tea. For one it is a very light ochre in colour unlike the muddy-brown and strong desi version. And on the other hand, it is also salty and has loads of butter in it. Butter in tea? Yeah, yeah.... The fat helps them to keep warm in the bitter cold winter weather in Kinnaur.

Now coming to Kinnaur, here is some information sourced from http://hpkinnaur.nic.in/:

Kinnaur surrounded by the Tibet to the east, in the northeast corner of Himachal Pradesh, about 235 kms from Shimla is a tremendously beautiful district having the three high mountains ranges i.e. Zanskar, Greater Himalayas and Dhauladhar, enclosing valleys of Sutlej, Spiti, Baspa and their tributaries. All the valleys are strikingly beautiful. The slopes are covered with thick wood, orchards, fields and picturesque hamlets. The much religious Shivlinga lies at the peak of Kinner Kailash mountain. The beautiful district was opened for the outsiders in 1989. The old Hindustan-Tibet road passes through the Kinnaur valley along the bank of river Sutlej and finally enters Tibet at Shipki La Pass. And it is not only the scenic beauty which appeals to the young and old alike but also the life styles of the people, their culture, heritage, customs and traditions.

The much honest people which have strong culture and beliefs generally follow the Buddhism and Hinduism believe that the Pandavas came and resided in the land while in the exile. In the ancient mythology the people of Kinnaur are known as Kinners, the halfway between men and gods. Thousands years old monasteries still exist in the area. Both the Buddhists and Hindus live in perfect harmony symbolising the traditional brotherhood and friendship of the people of both the faiths.

The apples, chilgoza and other dry fruits are grown here are world famous. The high terrain here give way to great adventures sports of all kinds. Beautiful trekking routes includes the 'Parikarma of Kinner Kailash'. Here is also the Beautiful Nako lake and three famous wild life sanctuaries.

Sounds like a bit of paradise. Coming back to the tea. There are special tea leaves that are used to make this tea and I assume they are simmered at a low temperature before straining them and adding milk, butter and salt. Served hot, it tastes like one of the most yummiest things to have in winter.

Chai at the Negi's used to be a lot of fun. Very cordial and knowledgeable people, they used to mingle with a lot of love. Stories of the valley, the customs and practices used to make very interesting conversation. And I used to remember one of her married cousins, who used to break into a song at any given opportunity. Sometimes she sang for her bellowed husband, who either fled out of the room on some pretext or flushed a beetroot red politely. We used to end up spilling most of the tea on the rug as the saucers and cups shook with the jolts of our laughter.

It's been a very long time since I went to Mumbai. And on the top of my itinery if I go there is, of course, Chai with the Negis.

The twenty-twenty win is still warm in the minds of the cricket-crazy Indian. It is extremely special. The boys played really well. But that does not make it ultra special. Of course, they try to play every game well. But the fact that they played well and won against Pakistan is what cricket fanatics at home are crazy about. For, despite the recreated bonhomie between the two countries, a game is a game and yeah, winning still seems to be everything.

There is something about an India-Pakistan match that converts the cricket-knowing and loving population into patriotic and benevolent countrymen for a period of exactly six hours. That is exactly how long the euphoria lasts. What happens after that? How dare you ask? Where is the water from cauvery? And why did they burn that effigy? In short, we become normal again.

World Cup encounters of the Indian team are sacred in India. I have heard of some offices that announced half day on the day that India lost to the Aussies in Johannesburg. Everyone is praying, wishing, superstition-following on the same dates, hoping that it will add to the chance of bringing the cup home. It is the same when the Team plays against South Africa, West Indies, England and even victories against Bangladesh, Kenya, Netherlands, Somalia, Ethiopia, err…I mean relatively new countries on the block is considered a deserved win.

But what happens if we are playing against Pakistan. Nothing. Fanaticism is excused for one day. It is one day when the crime rates are relatively low. One time when you see you Dad’s face writ with more apprehension than the time he saw your report cars. One time, when transistors are sold free along with milk. And yeah, you join in, dutifully, as always.

Even mothers are interested in the game. They try their best to understand that mysterious game which has kept the house roof up and silent for one day. But after three mocking rebuffs for the questions: “Is this how Tendulkar plays?”, “How can he spit on the ball?” “If he is caught the ball, why is he still lying on the ground for so long?” they decide it is better to simply sit and enjoy the piece and quiet. But yes, some of the mothers of this generation are well-versed in the game. I remember how one of my friend’s mother educated me about ‘the fine leg’ position after I got a glare of the century from my friend for mistaking it for something else.

Ours is a cricket-mad country. Chak de India? Yeah…but only of late…We have been the blue billion for long, gawping at the men in blue, drinking the colas they sell, buying those wondrous shoes they wear and the men religiously use the shaving cream that ‘The Wall’ will sell. But the good thing is that we are also finally warming up to new games and sports.


I remember we had this brat pack when we were very young. We would simply come early to the cricket ground in the colony. Early was around 5 am in the morning. (Mom always mumbled about why I never got up so early for school). And we would proceed to the ground with our ammunition.

Our ammunition was two cricket bats that were freebies along with the Boost one Kilo jar, a tattered tennis ball, three stumps flicked from one of my friend’s brothers and lots of biscuits and water. We never played a lot of proper cricket. But simply having the ground to ourselves while the guys sat fuming was a prize in itself. Until they started laughing at us, that is. But yeah, that was the time when we hit all the fours and sixes, precisely in the direction of the laughing spectators and they went home howling, not with laughter.

More recently, there was a lot of the same happening in the company some time ago. The cricket-playing, I mean. The enthusiastic bharatiya-naaris that we were, My friend and I had signed up to play for an in-house tournament. But the lead-up conversations to the game were priceless.

“Hey , where can we get a cricket ball?”
“Why?”
“We are going to play cricket, that’s why!!”
“Ho ho ho ho….”

“Can I borrow your cricket bat?”
“Ho ho ho ho..”
“What is wrong with you, Santa Claus?”
“Don’t tell me you are taking part in that cricket game…ho ho ho…”

If you heard of any victims of cricket ball and bat assault, I don’t know anything of it. Ho ho ho….

So we went to this humongous ground in the off skirts of Chennai. And we were all apprehensive about winning. Until we started practicing, that is. After that we were sure we should go home. But then why do they make songs like ‘Baar Baar haan..’, ‘Chak de India’ and ‘Haan yehi sapna hai tera…’. Precisely to make you believe you too can be tendulkaris and Dhonis.

The IT life doesn’t quite agree with playing cricket. Halfway through the stretching sessions, we had consumed half of the ground water in that area and were talking about stress. Somehow we got to practice. Then we never stopped. Laughing, that is.

That was the day when Women’s cricket saw many innovations happen. We invented the badminton-bowling, tennis shot, mouse-click bowling and many other things. Err…these were all single-time demonstrations only.

Usually, in a tempo rising match, the sound effects are like this:
Thud thud (bowler running down the crease)
Whack! (ball flying around)
Oooohh…(goes the crowd)

When we played the effects were as follows:
Tik tik (IT Ladies don’t run…they glide)
Click(The sound of the ball brushing past the batswoman’s legs)
Huh? (That was the crowd)
We go: Four, six, out, lbw, oh whatever…(we’re running out of all the cricketing terms)

But yeah, there were some well-versed players in the team and we did manage to score some runs. I guess we played some five overs. We were the first team to get out in the five-five edition of the game. Sob! Let me finish gloating over this fine point in the history of cricket.

And then the next team started to play. We did some Indian team huddle to brace ourselves for whatever was to come. We were pretty sure we could beat them. Arre..we were the mean team. Right at the time when we were about to enter the field, someone calls out from the opposite team,

“Go Jessie, state-level cricket player.”

We turned all possible shades of pale possible in the burning hot sun. But we still believed in the magic of Lagaan and get into the battlefield. First ball is bowled. It is saved by some *ouch* rolling on the ground. Then Jessica came in to bat. But we were completely geared up for this with fire in our bellies (It was not acidity, I believe) and bravery oozing out of our life forms. Then we completely lost it.

Of course, not our senses. We have too little of it to lose it anyway. We lost the ball. Jessica took any ball, thrown from any angly, at any speed for a free flight. The opposite team got so tired of cheering that they began to use the pads and other cricket gear as pillows. Finally, the match was over. And there was a collective sigh. Sigh!

We got back to just watching and cheering cricket. After four bottles of insulin, drips and a week of amrutanjan and Tiger pain balm. If someone asks me now about how I felt the team was playing, I usually divert the topic to Dhoni’s new hairstyle or Yuvi’s awesome new car. Experience does make you more sympathetic! :)

JK Rowling should sell the powers and spells that she elaborates in Harry Potter. Why? For the sake of this post, so we can apparate, disapparate, use floo powder and what not instead of travelling by road, rail , water or air. You might think travelling is not so bad. Of course it is not, it is booking tickets that is so cumbersome.



It is a sprightly Friday morning, veering towards noon when I enter the hallowed portals of the Bangalore cantonment station. The queues, as usual are very long. But I have filled in all the forms, so I walk into the farthest left queue and stand.



And I stand in the same position for another hour. (If I hadn't kept moving my legs, I would have become a certified wax statue to be placed at Madamme Tussauds. They should be glad to have me. ;) )



The wait irritated, frustrated and bugged me so much that my mind finally started working and I made a list of orders that I would issue to be carried out at reservation centers if at all Laloo thought I could be made rilway minister for a day.



1. Cleaning with brooms, vacuum cleaners or simply showing off the latest cleaning equipment the Railways possesses must be done on holidays. Most of us come after taking a bath at home. Drenching us with dust is not exactly the best way of improving the hygiene of the Indian public.



2. Anybody who waits till he has reached the counter and then proceeds to fill in his form, much to the wrath of the waiting queue will be made to stand at the end of the queue and as soon as he reaches the counter, will be made to go back again. This will be done until everyone gets bored.

3. People who think that standing in the queue is the best time to set your ringtone, while playing and testing all the horrenduous ones, will be made to stand in front of the entrance and made to sing any crazy song on demand. Any coins falling in the bowl before him will go to the Rainways Harassed Passengers Refreshments Fund.

4. People staring at other people for more than 15 minutes will also not be spared. They will be blindfolded and let loose. They will have to complete the reservations proceedures like that, he he.

Well, the list of crazy rules is really long. The Indian public can get really creative at this. I think we should just improve our system a bit more...

It was a balmy afternoon in Bangalore when I walked across the Miller Tank road with my sister. The usual sister banter of taunts and jokes was on, when all of a sudden, my sister mutters an expletive and heads off into a side lane. I am puzzled by her behaviour and am wondering if she is finally mad enough to be admitted, when she beckons me urgently. Before I can turn around and mutter 'Watz-ze-prablem', I have two companions in front of me. Dressed in Saris, clapping their hands and asking me for money. I cringe. For that has become the customary reaction to these people. They are eunuchs.

I realize I do not have change and I try to wave them off. But they are well prepared for that also.

"Don't worry," one of them says, "I have change."

I almost smile.

Yeah, right! Now they have a change service. I look to my clever sister and they catch my look and one of them goes over to her. My sister is even more fierce in telling that she has no change. But 'No' is definitely not the answer they are looking for.

They begin clapping their hands and try to bless us on our foreheads. We try to back off to no avail. I decide I might actually have to part with the hundred bucks I have, when I see dearest Sis handing over twenty bucks to them with a grimace. The lady even has the guts to look at them with an expectant expression for some change back. But the Saris have disappeared as abruptly as they came.

We walk with a scowl.

"I thought they only caught the guys, you know." I said.

"No, here, they just prey on anybody. A lot of them jaywalk outside the college gate and the girls usually have a tough time dodging them."

Then i begin to wonder if the paltry sum of twenty rupees is all that 'they' might get today. They do not have an occupation. Where must they be living? What do they do on days they don't get any money? Are they forced to live like this? Beggars are always given alms with sympathy and pity, does anybody really pity them?

Then, I think it could be a fault on their part also. Has anyone made an effort to break the social stigma and start ventures of their own? But then, who would be willing to finance them? So far, their main claim to fame has been in the brunt of jokes and taunts.

But I think that it is all a matter of choices......

I must be sounding like some lost Hindi heroine but seriously this is what i am thinking-Ki merea number kab aayega? I mean in the MBA planet. Almost everybody around me is getting an MBA and clearing those monstrous exams with ease while I seem to be writing atleast fifty exams per month and failing with increasing accuracy every time. Seriously, I think either God is refusing to grant me a MBA ka aashirwad or there is ......I don't know what to say.
So far, it has been a mad ride with trying to study in the train and ending up falling on angry-looking aunties and gentlemen, running to office and then to home while trying to memorise how to find the total surface area of a cube and so on and so forth. Well, I am glad all the exams are over with FMS being the last one!
Office is fine though it is growing in alarming rates. Everyday, there are some freshers looking lost and fresh(contrast!) standing near my bay. I try to give them the bossy looks but being the nice soul that I am, i give them my sweetest smile. One more thing, I've noticed they manage to call my male colleagues 'Sir' but I have been trying to get a 'Madam' out of them for me but to no avail.
Well, the 'Hum Paanch' group that we formed is standing precariously at 'Hum dono' with me and Rt in it. Mitwaa had been posted to another place in the same city for some time but unfortunately, he is returning this week ; ). And the guy left no stone unturned in announcing that he was back. With phone calls and mails, the guy was all over the place before actually arriving here. Had seen him some time back and I remember him looking like Hrithik in Koi Mil gaya-the food there had done no good to him! Anyways, since hi is going to be back, I guess the company here should do him some gooood!
Yo, the lion is in his cave after meeting with an accident. The guy will never learn! I don't know what makes him think he is one of the characters in 'Fast and the furious'! Anyways, he is alright and should be back soon.
Juggy D is out roaming with his relatives. Rt is here and rocking! Rocking in the right sense because her cousin bhaiya ki shaadi is scheduled for this month and the lady is attending dance practice classes for the same. She makes me roll with laughter when she comes everyday and does the steps in front of the loo mirror. Also she has found this newfound love for the internal blogging and is getting a huge fan following because of that! LOL!
And there is this virus in office which goes by the name KO (pronounced Kay-Oh- I thought Cow lol). The peculiar thing about this virus is that it stays outside of the computer. Whenever you are busy staring into your computer, you shall feel a earth-shaking kick on your chair. And thou shall see the virus appearing there with a wide grin behind those big black glasses! I and Rt are working on a proper antivirus for the same!
One more individual who deserves special mention here is a wannabe Daler Mehndi female version by the name QuietMeena. Nothing quiet about her. Especially when she goes 'Moge Moge tu rang de basanti on the top of her voice! You will not find me and Rt in our chairs cos we shall be rolling on the floor with laughter!
There's more to come....Will be back after a breather!