Sawaal Apke , Jawaab humare

One of my chat freinds ???(sorry naam nahi bataunga)tagged me so many questions. And you know me , I am the sort of 18th century quixotic chivalrous gabru jawan types guy who would challenge the entire deol family to "do-do haath" if a lady asks me to do that .And completing a tag is much simpler than protecting my physical well being against Dharam 'Garam' Paaji , Bobby 'Soldier' Paaji and Sunny 'Dhai killo ka haath' Paaji , so here I go.

1. Pick out a scar you have , and explain how you got it .
Mar jaawa mirchi kha ke , these guys are talking about painful memories right away . I have a strong belief that any decent young man without a history of police encounters or public beatings should not have any scars on his 'jism' ( Waise compared to the word 'body' , the word 'jism' sounds as cheap as the fromt row ticket of Bhushan takiz Gariya Phatak… na ? ) . So after a prolonged examination of the wonderland that my body is , I proclaim I have no scars on my body . I know the question demands I find a scar and even talk about how I got it as if it's the world cup trophy , but then what do I do if I have no scars ? Ab blog post ke liye I won't go around asking people "Bhai saab , please stab me thoda sa , I need to write about the scar in my blog ."

2.What is on the walls of your bedroom ?
Yaar yeh sting operation paltan tho bedroom tak chale gaye . Arre miyan , shareefo ka mohalla hain yeh , ek jawan ladke ke bedroom ke baare mein poochna kahan ki sharafat hain ?Aaj bata detein hai bass , dobara mat poochna ( Oye yeh tho chlormint ka ad ho gaya.) - I have on the walls of my bedroom the face a plastic mickey mouse smiling stupidly , and framed photographs of Pooja , Naina , Tara , Tina , Julie and Rita . A sensitive lad like me would always keep the pictures of his ex-girlfriends . Yaadein . Meethi meethi yaadein.

3. What is your current desktop picture ?
Arre ab kahan wo zamaana . If you had asked me this question when I was at hostel , then you would have got a rangeen reply . You know what kinda desktop pictures we keep when at home - sunsets , palaces , gardens , monuments , waterfalls etc etc . Waise right now I see my dad smiling at me on the desktop . Hi Papa .

4. Do you believe in gay marriage ?
Huh ? Oye gay marriage hain , koi UFO thode hee hain jo pooch rahe ho "Do you believe ?". I believe a marriage is a union of two minds , who then commit to tread the path of life together , facing all adversity and celebrating all joys together , and helping each other grow in the process . Gay or otherwise , the essence of a marriage is unaffected by such trivial issues . Subhan allah , ekdum miss world waala answer diya na !

5. What do you want more than anything right now ?
Watch Die Hard 4 . Looks like all my friends are either married or committed to find time to go out with me . All boys outings ka tho zamaana hee nahi raha . I am planning to take my mom to the movie after convincing her it's a comedy.

6 . What time were you born ?
On a mildly cool morning that fateful day in May , 1980 , I was delivered into this world , with no indication of the fact that I was to grow up to become the wonderful and charming young man I am today . Within seconds of my being born , a pretty nurse with big eyes wrapped me into a soft white blanket . As she was turning back to get something else , I suddenly gripped her finger with my tiny palm , pulled her towards me and squeaked in my newly discovered voice - "Aunty , time kya hua hain ?."
You actually think all this happened ? Nahi na . So how am I expected to know what time it was when I was born ? …(as per the puratatva vibhag it was 06:45 am Friday).

7. Are your parents still together ?
Oye ! Abbe western culture ke poster , humare India mein parents remain together . They are very much together and have no dangerous plans . Shaadi mein fevicol khaayi thi mummy papa ne , mazboot jod hain , tootega nahi.

8. Last person who made you cry ?
Me . I believe no one else can make me cry . Tears arise out of what I do with the thoughts in my head . ( Kaafi profound hain yeh jawaab , samajh na aye tho koi nahi )

9. What is your favorite perfume / cologne ?
Yaar main koi Page 3-socialite-fashion designer types hoon jo itna perfume conscious hunga ? Apna 150 rupye mein Zatak deo lekar use karta aa raha hoon saalo se .Ladkiyan tho ad mein hee attract hoti hain . Real life mein tho 'Namaste Bhaiyya' hee kehti hain.

10. What kind of hair/eye color do you like in the opposite sex ?
Am a very adjusting and easy going person . You ask about the colors , even a lack of hair and eyes is totally cool with me ( Jyada bol gaya emotional hokar , maybe I won't be totally cool with a girl who looks like a blind Anupam Kher )

11. What are you listening to ?
'Bol na Halke Halke' from 'Jhoom Barabar Jhoom'. The first time someone told me there is a song which goes "Bol na Halke Halke" , I thought it was about a couple of engineering students whispering answers to each other during an exam.

12. Do you get scared of the dark ?
Not if there is Amrita Rao in the same room .

13. Do you like pain killers ?
Like ? What's there to like or dislike in a pain killer ? If there is pain , I take the pill . You don't expect me to 'like' pain killers and yell "Mummy ! Aaaj lunch mein aloo ke paranthe aur pain killers bana do ! Bott din ho gaye accha khaana khaye hue !."

14. Are you too shy to ask someone out ?
I am as 'besharam' as a C grade tamil movie . Aati kya Die Hard dekhne ? Ab bolna tho "aati kya khandaala' chahta tha , but abhi khandaala jaane ka mood nahi hain.

15 . If you could eat anything right now , what would it be ?
The guy or a girl who put so many questions in this tag . With some tomato ketchup.

16. Who was the last person you made mad ?
Mummy. I do that with alarming frequency.

17. Is anyone in love with you ?
Ladies , this question is for you. Aaju baaju mat dekh , baat dil ki bol daal.

Chalo abhi I need some sleep

A fear of myself !!!!!!

Once upon a time , I went home.....wait a minute...I am sick of this grandma style opening.Forget once upon a time.Lets restart.
Last october , I went home during the Diwali leaves.When you go home after staying away for months , everybody acts nice.Mom cooks what I like.Dad doesnt nag me about getting a haircut.Sister lets you have the remote.Even the neighbourhood Mrs.bhatia who is usually as grumpy as a crocodile manages to pretend a smile and coo "oh golu , vacations ? How is pune ? any girlfriend there...haaaaaa".She winks mischeviously as she mouths the girlfriend part.That makes my tummy churn.But all in all , for that one week of October , life was as cool as 2 feet by 2 feet room fitted with 13 air conditioners.

One day , during those October vacations , I was sprawled on the drawing room floor.I was watching POGO channel on the Television.Ok.My parents dont read this blog.I was watching FTV.That stands for fashion TV.Its about fashion and clothes.I focus on the clothes , not on the pretty models wearing them.Trust me.Anyways , just then the phone rang and mom got it.It was mom's sister , my 'mausi'.Now dont you understand 'mausi' ? Maybe you grew up in California.Anyways , in our country , India , we call mom's sister "mausi".Namaste.
So mom and her sis caught up with all the normal talk while I watched Pogo , waiting for the call to end so that mom goes away and I dive back into the world of waxed legs and exposed navels on FTV.And then this happened.
Mom (on phone , to mausi ) : What ? ......why ?
Mausi ( on phone , to mom ) : ........( me to you) wait a minute , how am I supposed to know what she said from the other side ?
Mom ( on phone , again to mausi ) : He just turned 26...But why ?
Mausi ( on phone , to ..i dnt believe it ...mom ) : ....( me to you).I told you guys, I dont know !
Mom ( on phone , to mausi ) : What ! Oh no anita ,he dnt want to get into this for next two years...

It was about my marriage.Some friend of ma's sister had some daughter.It was like I had just received an email from god with the subject line 'from boy to man".I agree that 26 is anyways too early an age which makes marriage sound more like child mariage.But that was the moment when it first struck me that marriage is no longer something which happens to big brothers .Marriage is no longer something which I attend as a guest , it may just happen to me.Anyways , mom mercilessly drove the scooter of my first marraige proposal in a brick wall.I still dont know anything about that girl.But whoever she is , she is for me what a first ever customer is to an auto driver.

Things changed radically soon after that strange day in October.When I went home in the March of 2007 , I did not wait for any phone calls.We got home from the station , and within forty minutes I had told my parents all about "her".
I have read 'Who moved my cheese?'.It says change is inevitable.So here I change , as I am tired of addressing "her" as "her".It makes things so complicated .So for the rest of this post , "her" would be addressed as madonna.Anyways , I told my parents madonna was the girl i wanted to marry.For someone like me to say something like that to my parents , its like a tibetan monk asking for some beer at a pub.What followed were perhaps the most topsy turvy days of my life so far.I save the story for another day.

And now that she is a series of black and white photographs pasted in my "golden memories" album, I see my marriage as being an arranged one.We will probably visit the girl's home , where I would drink some coffee , smile at the girl and look at her stupid little brother.And I will tell her about my days with madonna , even if that makes my dad pull out a gleaming bazooka and blow my head off. If I expect her to share my life , she has every right to know my life.And in a way , I think my experience with madonna has transformed me from a bubbly and reckless boy to a slightly more mature and considerate one.My opinion of myself as a human being has taken a dent in the one moment I left her alone when I promised to be with her, and I want to improve this opinion by making the girl I marry feel happy every day of her life.I am scared of hurting people now .I know how bad and wrong I can be .And I want to prove it to myself that I may be weak , but I am not evil.
I gave her a lot of sorrow , but gave myself a fear of myself , a fear of me hurting someone ever again.

I am a 83 old guy seated on a rocking chair in home's bedroom.I am watching FTV on the TV.Then my 79 year old wife staggers into the drawing room leaning on a wooden stick.I am too old and slow by now to flip the channel to POGO the way I used to as a 23 year old.And she anyways is old and weak sighted to make out the difference between FTV and POGO.I get up with my aching joints , find my way towards her without managing to fall , hold her hand and walk her to the chair.I make her sit on the chair gently .And then she looks up at me , straining her eyes to have a good look and then says in a frial old voice "You know , I have had a good life with you".and If that happens, maybe I will know that though I was weak at some points of my life , I was never evil.I will always remember that last phone call to "her" , when I told her its not possible for us to be together and cried like a kid at a public phone booth.But if at the end of my life , my weak sighted and old wife thinks I helped her live a good life , maybe then I will know that I was not that bad a human being , after all

Talent hunt!!!

My certification exam is coming towards me like a drunk and unbathed Gulshan Grover staggering towards a cowering and trembling girl who took refuge from the rain in one of his luxurious bedrooms. In the movies , the girl generally pulls out a seven inch knife from the apple basket lying on the side table , positions it right over her tummy and yells "Kutte , ek kadam bhee aage badaya to main khud ko khatm karr dungi". But I do not feel any amount of artillery positioned over any part of my anatomy can halt the oncoming ghost called exam . So I better gear up unless I want to go jobless and then end up as an anti social element , stealing vada paav to feed my kids and wives(dnt be serious,just checking ur reading skills) and girlfriends.

As a part of this "get certified to switch" preparation , I sat down to work on my resume yesterday. I looked at a blank word document and typed down each and every achievement of mine .But even after that , page space enough to fit in the entire voters list of UP remained. So to come out of this I have to add a lot of value to it. This is what I m preparing for all my certifications.

If something has been come up in the name of sports world, this is what I remembered the school days.

When I was born , I was a baby with baby fat enough to make butter naans for half the colony. And that is all right , I guess babies are like pay cheques - they look good when they are fat. But hanuman jee kee leela dekho , I was born into a family with a granny who fed grains to sparrows in the morning and oily food to her grandson for the rest of the day. So at a tender age , when I had no nails or teeth to scratch and bite in self defence and could just murmer "nana..mamama...umm" ( No I am not hungry ) , she made me eat and eat to make sure I retained a major part of my precious baby fat even when I entered school .

So that made me as much "suitable-for-sports" as Nana Patekar is for the role of Leo Caprio in Titanic. Like any 'deshbhakt' little fat indian kid , cricket was my first love . And cricket was fun , as long as I was watching it on TV. When I went out to play , tall and lean boys gave me that "Go play Ludo" look . I was always the curly haired little kid who was pleading- "Ayye bunty , bat de na , mujhe batting karne de na" , "Ayye rahul , ball de na , mujhe fast balling aati hai acchi wali " , "Ayye Vikky , mere andar ke cricketer ka gala matt ghott. mujh par taras khaa zaalim. Mujhe batting open karrne de ".

But no bunty or Rahul or Vikky ever ate any taras on the budding and well hidden cricketer in me . So one day I decided ki bhaiyya , bott ho gaya public mein humiliation , boundary ke side mein fielding karte karte budaapa aa jayega .And I hung my bat and walked away into the sunset , never to return to cricket again .

Since then , I have had myself humiliated , laughed at , beaten and thrown away out of sporting career of cricket world. Then it was the time to prove like some hindi movie where hero after getting failed, saying “kasam paida karne wale ki main ye kar dunga,main vo kar dunga” .And the same has been done by me, I was one of the good football player during my graduation and PG. Not even football, I too play cricket very well now there seems to be nothing which gives me a feel like a looser in any of sport I have played .

Ok , it is six in the morning and I think I will go for a gym now. No no no , do not get me wrong , gymnesium is not my next sporting passion .

Before I go , a very very gud morning to you buddies .You be the good person you have always wanted to be , and if you see a little fat kid pleading before big and lean guys and saying "Mujhe batting karne do please" , walk over , slap the big kids unke respective kaan ke neeche and hand over the bat to the little fat kid with a smile , and lastly , maintain peace in the new fresh morning.

Maybe my son will grow up to be some star soccer player who is signed up by a fancy club and makes girls scream at super sonic levels when he steps out of his red sports car , or some champion boxer who chomps on ears and strips topless and beats dark and bald muscular men on TV. But you wont see me on ESPN or any sports channel in this lifetime of mine , unless I am picked up by some channel to dress into a noodle straps blouse and replace Mandira Bedi , which , I somehow feel , is slightly improbable .Have Fun.

Death

I just came out of the ICU with lot of flings of emotions that suppressed me for some moments. All that happned it touched my heart. At the same time when tears fill the little boy's wide n clear hazel eyes and slide delicately down his fair and pristine cheeks ,its difficult to deny the tears in your own eyes .Death of his mother it was.

Death is a painful thing.Not the pain of the body.But the pain of the seperation.Of not feeling the smell of her hands.Of missing the moments when you threw your arms playfully around her neck.Of not watching her folding the clothes.of not hearing her voice.

I know that death is not a pleasant thing.But just if we remember that it is there , waiting for of all of us,life can be more sincerely lived.Just remember that at the twilight,you will just have the moments made of these emotions and feelings to savour.nothing concrete.no money.no cars.no houses.no businesses run .no empires built.just these little moments.so we must be good. a fast brain u may do without.but have a beautiful heart.People wont remember the money u got , but how you made them feel.

And the fact is that this thing called life has lately been, not exactly as horrible as we mould it .