It was one of those particularly jinxed Friday nights - I was out partying with some of my friends (whose characters will be revealed through the post) and the series of events that ensued still gets talked about to this day; so much so that a picture from that night, posted on Facebook, inspired lots of comments that essentially replayed whatever happened & was amusing enough to post here.
**Names have been discretely changed. I should add that it was a picture of me in the pub we had gone to that night on which this commentary was happening. SK, Marvin & Jig are the friends who were with me. Tam-Tam (TT) is another friend, not present that night but an active FB-er**
SK: TT you should ask her about the other "interesting" events of that night.
November 12, 2009
October 13, 2009
A well-beaten path
This small incident refuses to take leave of my brain. In fact, it outrages me every time I think about it.
A few months ago my mom and I were waiting at Amsterdam for our connecting flight back home. Naturally there were a large number of Indians on the flight and we ended up sitting next to a genial looking lady who was keeping watch on a couple of children who were whizzing around in general. Striking up a conversation with her seemed the most natural thing to do for my mom and off she started and discovered that genial lady, let's call her Mrs. D, was returning from a fantastic vacation in Paris.
Obviously this was a cue for exchange of vacation notes. "My daughter just had a baby, so I went to visit her", declares mom.
"Elder daughter?"
"Yes, this is my younger one", jabs a finger in my direction. I'm being anti-social and have my nose stuffed into a book or a bacon sandwich, I forget which.
What followed after this has had me fuming in rage since then, enough at least to make me write this.
Once I have been pointed out to her, Mrs D asks "You have two daughters?". Mom - "Yes". When my mom stops at yes, Mrs. D picks up the thread again and asks "Ok, so two daughters... and one son?", venturing the second part as a natural understanding that after two daughters my mom MUST have son which she didn't need to declare but since it was unthinkable that she wouldn't have a son it was to be understood. !!!!!! How I wanted to throw the book, or bacon sandwich, at her!
Mrs. D, feeling unnecessary sympathy for mom, hurriedly proceeded to describe her Paris vacation, with me sneakily listening in.
After listening to the highlights of her vacation I think I got an insight as to why she would ask what she did. It was a vacation to Paris all right, but the highlights of the vacation were not the supposed beauty of the city, or French culture, or the Louvre or even the Eiffel Tower. Mrs. D was proudly describing how they rented an apartment in Paris & because of her foresight in packing atta, spices, daal, rice they could eat paranthas & daal & chawal and give the children Maggi when they wanted and how it was 'just like home'! Not a single mention of what they saw in Paris, how it was different from India, how the people were etc. If she hadn't mentioned she was in Paris, she could have been describing her daily routine in Delhi.
I felt a combination of anger, disbelief & a little regret. Anger & disbelief at the wasted vacation; to her it was enough that she could say 'Paris' and enjoy all the glamour of a foreign vacation associated with it. Regret at that she would probably never realize that it was a wasted vacation.
For me the second conversation served as a good explanation for her initial questions. In her comfortable, well settled life I don't think she ever had questions. Her path was charted out for her - education (literacy?), marriage to a 'good, wealthy catch', children (at least one boy) and then living out the rest of your life bringing up the children, of course interspersed with the mandatory foreign vacations, luxurious shopping, kitty parties maybe?, and of course questioning the people who didn't fall into this category - ".. and one boy?"!
A few months ago my mom and I were waiting at Amsterdam for our connecting flight back home. Naturally there were a large number of Indians on the flight and we ended up sitting next to a genial looking lady who was keeping watch on a couple of children who were whizzing around in general. Striking up a conversation with her seemed the most natural thing to do for my mom and off she started and discovered that genial lady, let's call her Mrs. D, was returning from a fantastic vacation in Paris.
Obviously this was a cue for exchange of vacation notes. "My daughter just had a baby, so I went to visit her", declares mom.
"Elder daughter?"
"Yes, this is my younger one", jabs a finger in my direction. I'm being anti-social and have my nose stuffed into a book or a bacon sandwich, I forget which.
What followed after this has had me fuming in rage since then, enough at least to make me write this.
Once I have been pointed out to her, Mrs D asks "You have two daughters?". Mom - "Yes". When my mom stops at yes, Mrs. D picks up the thread again and asks "Ok, so two daughters... and one son?", venturing the second part as a natural understanding that after two daughters my mom MUST have son which she didn't need to declare but since it was unthinkable that she wouldn't have a son it was to be understood. !!!!!! How I wanted to throw the book, or bacon sandwich, at her!
Mrs. D, feeling unnecessary sympathy for mom, hurriedly proceeded to describe her Paris vacation, with me sneakily listening in.
After listening to the highlights of her vacation I think I got an insight as to why she would ask what she did. It was a vacation to Paris all right, but the highlights of the vacation were not the supposed beauty of the city, or French culture, or the Louvre or even the Eiffel Tower. Mrs. D was proudly describing how they rented an apartment in Paris & because of her foresight in packing atta, spices, daal, rice they could eat paranthas & daal & chawal and give the children Maggi when they wanted and how it was 'just like home'! Not a single mention of what they saw in Paris, how it was different from India, how the people were etc. If she hadn't mentioned she was in Paris, she could have been describing her daily routine in Delhi.
I felt a combination of anger, disbelief & a little regret. Anger & disbelief at the wasted vacation; to her it was enough that she could say 'Paris' and enjoy all the glamour of a foreign vacation associated with it. Regret at that she would probably never realize that it was a wasted vacation.
For me the second conversation served as a good explanation for her initial questions. In her comfortable, well settled life I don't think she ever had questions. Her path was charted out for her - education (literacy?), marriage to a 'good, wealthy catch', children (at least one boy) and then living out the rest of your life bringing up the children, of course interspersed with the mandatory foreign vacations, luxurious shopping, kitty parties maybe?, and of course questioning the people who didn't fall into this category - ".. and one boy?"!
August 05, 2009
You know you work in an IT company when...
...you're trying to type www.orkut.com and end up typing www.oracle.com
July 16, 2009
Selective Memory
While looking through old pictures I realized that not only did I ruthlessly delete pictures which were hazy, poor quality or totally random, but also that I could just as easily delete pictures of me in which I was doing something silly or was looking horrible.
Just makes me wonder if that's how memory works - where we selectively retain the good ones while erasing or blocking unpleasant ones? Maybe in that case nostalgia is over-rated. Or maybe I'm just extremely narcissistic.
Just makes me wonder if that's how memory works - where we selectively retain the good ones while erasing or blocking unpleasant ones? Maybe in that case nostalgia is over-rated. Or maybe I'm just extremely narcissistic.
May 04, 2009
Zero-risk faith
This time while being driven home, after being picked up by the trustworthy family driver, I got a chance to witness something which was thought provoking enough to make me write this post.
Now this fellow is an energetic and colorful character with an immense liking for breaking out into impromptu karaoke to his favourite songs which the radio helpfully supplies him in plenty. Apart from being musical, the other most important thing in life seemed to be faith or God or religion or a combination of some sort. I reached this conclusion because I'd observed on earlier trips that no matter how heavy the traffic, no matter how engrossed he would be in singing, no matter if a herd of cows suddenly dropped onto the road in front of him but if he were to spot a temple on the road he would pay his due respects appropriately. A short prayer muttered, a quick little ritual touching of the forehead and whatever else struck his fancy.
He would do this for every temple he would spot - small, big, in the middle of a road, off in the distance. No shrine was too small to escape his purview and I thought that was very commendable and always used to admire his faith if not identify with it.
But that's not the reason I'm writing this. It's the realization that dawned on me about halfway during the trip that's making me write. I don't know why I had missed it before but I soon realized that not only was he paying his respect at every passing temple but also, with the kind of enlightenment the best of us don't have, he was doing the same for every mosque that we passed too. I was totally in awe of him after that! I mean if you've got to have faith then this is the best kind. Clearly he was a religious fellow, so he figured instead of wasting time, like the rest of most of us half-brianed idiots, about which God was better/right/stronger/existing-at-all, he'd show them! While they were doing themselves no earthly good by pitching one faith against the other, he'd just quietly notch up a whole bunch of brownie points with the whole pantheon, while laughing internally at their silliness.
I have to say I can find no possible logic against his.
Now this fellow is an energetic and colorful character with an immense liking for breaking out into impromptu karaoke to his favourite songs which the radio helpfully supplies him in plenty. Apart from being musical, the other most important thing in life seemed to be faith or God or religion or a combination of some sort. I reached this conclusion because I'd observed on earlier trips that no matter how heavy the traffic, no matter how engrossed he would be in singing, no matter if a herd of cows suddenly dropped onto the road in front of him but if he were to spot a temple on the road he would pay his due respects appropriately. A short prayer muttered, a quick little ritual touching of the forehead and whatever else struck his fancy.
He would do this for every temple he would spot - small, big, in the middle of a road, off in the distance. No shrine was too small to escape his purview and I thought that was very commendable and always used to admire his faith if not identify with it.
But that's not the reason I'm writing this. It's the realization that dawned on me about halfway during the trip that's making me write. I don't know why I had missed it before but I soon realized that not only was he paying his respect at every passing temple but also, with the kind of enlightenment the best of us don't have, he was doing the same for every mosque that we passed too. I was totally in awe of him after that! I mean if you've got to have faith then this is the best kind. Clearly he was a religious fellow, so he figured instead of wasting time, like the rest of most of us half-brianed idiots, about which God was better/right/stronger/existing-at-all, he'd show them! While they were doing themselves no earthly good by pitching one faith against the other, he'd just quietly notch up a whole bunch of brownie points with the whole pantheon, while laughing internally at their silliness.
I have to say I can find no possible logic against his.
March 24, 2009
Contraband
If there's a way of making sure everyone knows you've bought stuff that you don't want to go around displaying in public - putting the thing into a black plastic bag is it
Theoretically it works wonderfully. The bag is opaque and black, no one would ever know what's in it. The catch is - everyone invariably does because that trick is about the oldest in the book.
Put something into a black plastic bag and suddenly you're as conspicuous as if you were walking around in yellow pants and a purple shirt with a board on your head that said "Look at me" in bold red letters.
I'm sure it started out as a sensible enough practice - but it's now become such a cliche that it has the exact opposite effect; instead of general public never getting to know there's almost a 100% change that they will, in fact, know exactly what's in the bag.
So the next time I go to buy a harmless bottle of wine as a housewarming present, I am going to carry my own bag. A transparent one at that.
Theoretically it works wonderfully. The bag is opaque and black, no one would ever know what's in it. The catch is - everyone invariably does because that trick is about the oldest in the book.
Put something into a black plastic bag and suddenly you're as conspicuous as if you were walking around in yellow pants and a purple shirt with a board on your head that said "Look at me" in bold red letters.
I'm sure it started out as a sensible enough practice - but it's now become such a cliche that it has the exact opposite effect; instead of general public never getting to know there's almost a 100% change that they will, in fact, know exactly what's in the bag.
So the next time I go to buy a harmless bottle of wine as a housewarming present, I am going to carry my own bag. A transparent one at that.
March 01, 2009
Tech-savvy
I realized today that I should never underestimate my mom's abilities to cause endless and unintentional amusement especially when it concerns technology.
I got a frantic call from her today and the conversation that followed went something like this:
Mom: Listen!
Me: uh.. yeah?
Mom: What's a blueberry?
Me: a blueberry? what? a BLUEBERRY?
Mom: yes
Me: Well, it's.... you know.....a fruit.
Mom: No NO, not a fruit.
Me: Sure it's a fruit.
Mom: It can't be a fruit because I'm buying you one for your birthday
Me: you're sending me FRUIT for my birthday?
Mom: Listen, your cousin just gave a blueberry to her father and I want to give you one as well.
*Realization dawns!!!*
Me (choking with laughter): you mean a blackberry?!!!!
Mom: Yes that, fine I'm sending you a blueberry for your birthday then?
Me: it's a BLACKBERRY
Anyway, ultimately I convinced her that it was a blackberry and I didn't need one. I'm fairly sure though that if I call her tomorrow and ask her the name it will still be blueberry.
I got a frantic call from her today and the conversation that followed went something like this:
Mom: Listen!
Me: uh.. yeah?
Mom: What's a blueberry?
Me: a blueberry? what? a BLUEBERRY?
Mom: yes
Me: Well, it's.... you know.....a fruit.
Mom: No NO, not a fruit.
Me: Sure it's a fruit.
Mom: It can't be a fruit because I'm buying you one for your birthday
Me: you're sending me FRUIT for my birthday?
Mom: Listen, your cousin just gave a blueberry to her father and I want to give you one as well.
*Realization dawns!!!*
Me (choking with laughter): you mean a blackberry?!!!!
Mom: Yes that, fine I'm sending you a blueberry for your birthday then?
Me: it's a BLACKBERRY
Anyway, ultimately I convinced her that it was a blackberry and I didn't need one. I'm fairly sure though that if I call her tomorrow and ask her the name it will still be blueberry.
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008 (Me): i was an innocent observer...
SK: and i was your protector
Marvin: SK u yellow chicken... u were busy counting currency notes and shitting in ur pants while HIDING behind 008 !!!
SK: shut up Mr. bare hand man killer
TT: wht in god's name happened??
Jig:
2. 008 finds drunk (skirtless) girl in toilet at pub (Julia is the manger here)
4. Marvin, 008 drop girl home (only after she has puked on my new rainbow shirt)
6. take rick to go home
7. Marvin, 008, I get into fight with the driver
8. driver attacks with rock, Marvin tries to kill with bare hand, I try to mediate, 008 innocent observer, SK hiding behind 008 counting money in his wallet to pay off the driver and go home...
9. Marvin, 008, SK, I start walking home, rick driver returns with cops. I explains situation to cops in marathi.cops go.
10. reach home, abuse each other outside house. bald, sex deprived, midget neighbour come to fight, abuse neighbour
Pts. 1, 3, 5, 11, 12, 13...drink!!
Marvin: u excelled in precis writing in school...didnt u ?? :D
TT: hahahahahahaha...oh faaaaak...wht an exciting time tht must have been...and the precis writing..well, commendable!!
TT: and why was she skirtless?!lol...
SK: **This comment doesn't pass the censor ratings**
008: btw TT this is in u'r fav place! Jig - correction. i did not abuse neighbour. i abused SK, neighbour thought i was abusing him. I might have abused neighbour AFTER that.
Marvin: we dont know why she was skirtless... but we do know next day she called up SK and abused him for stealing her wallet or something !
Jig: looks like sly SK was planning to bribe the rickshaw driver with her money!
SK: are u crazy ... she called to thank us ... and she only had my no cuz i had missed called her phone when we couldn't find it. get the facts right guys!
TT: no i know why, cuz SK stole her skirt. **yet more censored stuff**
oo8: SK stole her skirt AND her friend's abandoned drink. anything for free booze eh SK?
Marvin: Tsk tsk tsk ... Jig steals apples, SK is a kleptomaniac.... what is the world coming to ?
After this point the comments turned into a general volley match of random abuses and accusations which while entertaining enough are out of context to this post.
Stats have the final word on this - there were 47 comments in total! Anyone ever got into the Guinness Book for having the highest number of comments on a facebook picture?