Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Smile: A strict No No !!
If they, the Amreekans, the Germans, Russians smile at passersby, why should we?
The crime is not specifically to smile at strangers or opposite sexes, but to the co-workers whom we see/pass-by daily.
We get into the company’s elevator, apartment’s elevator; we should never greet each other.
We should gaze at the Led display of floor numbers, ground, as if we are trying to break free of the elevator asap.
There is this line in a famous song: muskuraaye to muskuraane ke karz utaarne honge.. translating roughly to "if you smile, you have to pay for it.."
So, this is what you should do, if you pass by your company-mates in public places, malls, and if you don’t want to pay the smile.
>No matter what happens, don’t make an eye contact with him/her.
>Pretend that he/she is transparent and look through.
>If you have made the unimaginable eye contact, cover yourself in the majestic aura, raise your eyebrows and frown.
>If the other person elongates his/her lips to an expression unknown to you, stare as if he/she is an alien with foot length nose hair.
>If you want to scare the heavens out of a girl, smile at her in the elevator.
It was this one time; I managed to do the unthinkable criminal-offense.
I smiled at a girl in Crossroads, since she was reading the same book as mine; she dawned and looked at me with shock, as if the smile was a connotation of a mating call.
Why do we suffer from that majestic aura? Why do we act superior to mundane matters and people?
Do we have a skewed sense of "dignity"? After all, we live a small world.
P.S. The blog is not inspired by any incident, this is my general observation!! ;)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
For those who didn’t know, there happened this tragic incident with me a few weeks back. Some morally corrupt pervert had stolen my beloved mobile N95. As I was so much in love with it, I got another one.
Life was moving on smoothly (no high-tides too) just till yesterday. I got a call at noon from some unknown number, speaking in rapid Hindi ’Ha, Manoj Kumar?? I got your mobile, come to Chinchwad Police Station now.’ I asked ‘What? Who Manoj Kumar? I guess it’s a wrong number.’ He replied ’Arre Manoj Kumar, I am Sayeed. Your N95 mobile was lost no? It has been found, come to Chinchwad now.’ and he hung up.
At that moment, my expressions were as if I was frozen in the middle of a long belly laugh. The Policemen didn’t even file any FIR for my stolen mobile. They verbally thrashed me on asking for an FIR and compensated by lodging one missing report instead of an FIR. I started reading my own thoughts. How can they find my lost mobile? Even if they found it, instead of keeping it with themselves, why do they want to return an N95? Was some spoiled friend playing a prank on me?
I took my PM’s permission and started driving in heavy rain to the police station. I knew I had to give them money as baksheesh to get my mobile back. I took all my money from wallet and kept few notes in every pocket. While disbursing the money from every pocket, it somehow gives an impression that you have emptied all your pockets and given all of your money and you don’t have more.
Sub Inspector Sayeed wore an formal attire, the one you see encounter specialists wearing in Bollywood movies. He had that look on his face which made him of the rare samaj-se-buraayi-ka-terminator type. He greeted me, ’Aao Manoj Kumar, Do you have doubt on someone?’ I showed him copy of missing report stating ‘Sir its Tanuj Bhargava. I don’t have doubt on anyone’. He then showed me my beloved mobile, completely scratch-less, as good looking as it was when I owned it. I was animated as if I had been supplied an electrical impulse.
He then left the scene by introducing me to Vikrant, who helped him in recovering the mobile, who later I found as The-Man. Vikrant then told me that he has his contacts in all mobile operator companies and he found that someone in town Sholapur was using my mobile. Vikrant asked Syed Sahib who had to go to Sholapur for some work. The new mobile user from Sholapur had bought my N95 for Rs 5000 and Syed Sahib thrashed him, grabbed the mobile from him and bought it to me.
They both could have used the mobile for themselves, could have gifted it to their wives or their children and nobody would have tracked them. I took Vikrant with me to a nearest Chai-waala and finally negotiated the amount to 1700 INR and gave it to Vikrant. Since they had to give some baksheesh to the informer too, this amount was higher than I expected. And since I had no hopes of getting the mobile worth 20K back, and since Syed Sahib went to Sholapur, recovered my mobile and informed me, I was more than happy to give the baksheesh to them.
After some discussion with Syed Sahib, Vikrant came back and recorded my statement in Marathi. He then gave me 200 INR back stating 1500 INR are enough for them. They both came and said ’Don’t think all policemen doesn’t work. We do work. Whenever anything happens to you, come to us.’ as if they were the lines of some poetry.
They were the men of honor.
I drove back happily. I later came to know my pocket wasn’t big enough to hold two N95s. :)
Current Mood: grateful
Current Music: Turn the page
Friday, September 18, 2009
The road was as empty, black and silent as a dead sea. Suddenly, I saw one bike lying upside down on the roadside. It’s headlight and battery were still on. Expecting the then-obvious, I saw one middle aged man lying flat and unconscious near the bike. I had to stop my wonderful journey towards nowhere there and then. I rushed to the scene and parked my bike sideways.
I felt as if the cold breath and blood in my mortal body was clotted with anxiety, as there was absolutely no one else on that road. I picked his head and dragged his body carefully to the clean footpath. While carefully checking his head and open skin, I found only sweat and no blood: ‘Phew.. No major injury’, I told myself.
He was an unconscious, middle-aged, filthy huge man. His eyes were round, wide open and dark red. I couldn’t make out the reason of them being red if they contained blood or as if he woke up from a deep sleep. He was trying to breath hurriedly from his extra wide nostrils, the sound of it like the winds whistling through rocky shores. I was stunned on the fact that how can one snore after having met with an accident on middle of the road. His chest, as extra wide as his extra wide nostrils, was rising and falling with each breath and rested on his enormous belly.
Another biker stopped near us. He appeared as a tall and well built up guy. He asked nervelessly "Ssup man?" as if he had played this part a several times before. He carefully examined his face and body. All of a sudden, unexpectedly, he started slapping the unconscious man using both the sides of his right hand. Being almost in shock, I tried to stop him and blurted out "Just, what the hell you think you are doing fella?". "Relax man, he is drunk heavily, nothing else will wake him. You too slap him" he replied as coolly as if he was just playing the key role in the big drama.
He was actually right. The unconscious man was heavily drunk and he was regaining consciousness because of the constant slapping. I raised my hand too to slap him and shake him, but got amazed to realize that I couldn’t do it. It’s not that I had not hit a man before, but I found that hitting an unconscious man is a lot harder than hitting a man who is ready to fight with you.
With the passage of time, more people joined us. I grabbed his mobile and tried to search for names like Home, ghar, mom, bhai. I passed the phone to a local bystander as his family members spoke only Marathi and didn’t understand Hindi. By this time, the drunkard almost regained his senses. As he saw all the crowd that gathered him, his eyes expanded to twice their normal size as if a shark had passed him in shallow water.
I then left the drama, leaving him to the mercy of the crowd. I bought my bike's engine to life and resumed my midnight expedition. As there was again nothing much to do, I started thinking, what if he would have fallen to the right side of road and the not on the left side. What if some other safe-driver, who would have been traveling in the opposite lane and collided with him? I pondered over few drastic consequences of drunken driving.
Having enough of it, I resumed my earlier thoughts.
‘Main aur meri tanhai phir ye baatein karne lage, ki woh pillion seat pe hoti toh aisa hota, waisa hota’
Current mood: numb
Current music: Wake up Sid!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Formals – check.
ID Card – check.
Wallet – Damn .. Stolen yesterday.
Mobile – Damn .. The magical beauty N95 has been stolen yesterday by some morally corrupt pervert.
Saddened feelings numbed my mind again.
Yesterday, the first thing I did was to check time on my cell. Oops .. couldn’t find it. This is where I placed it before going to sleep. Searched whole place, but to no avail. Soon, I found out, my wallet was not there too. Icing to the pungent cake, roomie’s laptop too was stolen. As like everyone else, I too thought, burglaries happen to friends’ neighbors only.
Busted .. For a moment, I certainly came to know the literal meaning of being helpless. Soon, along with my roommates, I went to the police station to lodge an FIR. Like a bollywood feature film, policemen maltreated us. We explained our case to two Pawar sahibs, two Shinde sahibs.
After few hours of continuously sitting there, they ordered us to come at 7pm to meet the main boss Bhosale sahib.
Finally, we went to Infosys Phase I, security gate I. I didn’t know that Infosys has hired few retired sub inspectors for cases like these only. Hearing the case, one retired army officer accompanied us to the police station. Predictable as Bhosale sahib was, he completely metamorphosed and greeted us. "Arre, tum log kaha chale gaye the, kab se dhoondh raha tha tumhe, report nahi likhwaani?"
I just found another reason to be a proud Infoscion. But do you have to be an Infoscion to get heard? Heard of the words "Aam Aadmi"?
I somehow know, that debauched Bhosale sahib will not try blocking my IMEI number.
But at least, if our belongings are misused, we have a missing report filed.
I am feeling disheartened because of the sudden demise of my beloved mobile N95. Please join me in commemorating the memories I shared with my ex-cell.
Current Mood: discontent
Current Music: thou shall not steal
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
It was around midnight and I felt an enormous desire to surrender myself to the siesta. It took a lot of control from losing consciousness and stop myself from spinning on the floor like a crazy thing. I struggled to keep my eyes wide open and not to enter in that unknown ritual again like every other night. I tried to concentrate heavily on the very reason for what I was there with three of them. Suddenly I felt like I was being called, someone was hitting me hard. I cautiously opened my eyes swiftly and there was Ron standing like a behemoth. Everybody was smiling and giving me those ‘you-slept-again’ looks.
We were there at Ron’s place for the so called group studying and yeah... I have conquered the art of sleeping and studying simultaneously again. That was the time we decided to take a break (this was the third one already in past two hours). I suggested taking a walk would be fine (knowingly that my suggestion will be voted out). A fused sound came in chorus and I knew it was again going to be a smoke-break. We went to this small ‘gumti’ near his place and Ved said “Chacha, one classic mild(cigarette brand) aur ek beedi” and I ordered a ‘cut’(half cup tea). I liked the midnight teas of the gumti.
Ron has switched to ‘beedi’ thinking of dropping the nicotine level in the fag, spending less and to be environment-friendly (read as less-environment-unfriendly). I was glad that he was at least thinking of quitting smoking. For me it was favorable as I would have to inhale less second-hand-smoke. I also knew it was just a phase for him that would be over soon and he would again switch to class milds. He believes that quitting smoking is the easiest thing to do, as he had done it thousands of times. He took a drag, the tobacco filled his lungs. Trying to be humorous he said “I am thinking of quitting smoking but for thinking I require a cigarette”. Giggles were spread.
I know we all acquire some or the other habits to clear the mind tension. Some choose music, some choose alcohol, for some its work-out. But why fagging? That’s a paradox”
Why do I always think it as a sign of weakness? Many people smoke just to nullify their tensions temporarily. This ain’t a valid excuse This one time I went to a theatre and in interval few people rushed to the smoking zone which was a very small 2x4 feet room. There were like 30 people dreadfully trying to get into the room, all the hard work just to inhale the euphoric nicotine and glorious tobacco in their lungs. Being curious I somehow managed to get in the room. I saw the ‘clouds of despair were lifting up’. It’s like saying to the shopkeeper “Take these Rs. 5 and please increase my chances of having cancer.” Why would a sane person do that? Why is it hard for me to understand?
Nonsense. I knew, as I know now that I had no option other than being there and inhale the second-hand smoke they were puffing out. They eyed me suspiciously thinking that perhaps my mind really has been affected.
Another cig lit up, Ved took a drag and it’s handed from me to pass to Ron. I committed the cardinal sin of grasping the cig between my forefinger and thumb that too guiding it horizontally to Ron. He told me that it’s my lack of etiquette. The right way of hold a cig is to hold between the fore and the middle finger vertically (with the lit end upside).
Soon the cigarettes were extinguished. The other freshers sitting beside us picked up the bad habit naming it the ‘coolness-factor’. I stopped worrying about my test anymore with sips of the midnight tea. I took the last sip and gestured them to go back. I had my refreshment.