whatmarkism volume.16

Everybody should be somebody's Santa Claus.

Hey Maark

Written by my copywriter-friend. Set to the tune of "Maa" from taare zameen par.


Main Kabhi Batlata Nahin
Par Body Copy Se Darta Hoon Main Maark
Yun To Main, Dikhlata Nahin
Kabhi Aise Waise Copy Likhta Hoon Main Maark
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata, Hain Na Maark
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata Mere Maark

Ideas Mein Yun Na Chod Mujhe
Office Mein Bhi So Naa Paoon Maark
Briefs Na Itna De Mujkko Tu
Yaad Bhi Tujhko Aa Naa Paoon Maark
Kya Itna Bura Hoon Main Maark
Kya Itna Bura Mere Maark

Jab Bhi Kabhi Servicing Log Mujhe
Jo Zor Se Kaam Dete Hain Maark
Meri Nazar Dhoondhe Tujhe
Sochu Yahi Tu Aa Ke Thaamega Maark

Kisi Aur Se Tum Yeh Kehte Nahin
Par Mujhe Hi Daante Ho Maark
Chehre Pe Aana Deta Nahin
Dil Hi Dil Mein Ghabraata Hoon Maark
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Hai Naa Maark
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Mere Maark

Main Kabhi Batlata Nahin
Par Body Copy Se Darta Hoon Main Maark
Yun To Main, Dikhlata Nahin
Teri Parwaah Karta Hoon Main Maark
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata, Hain Na Maark
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata, Mere Maark

Drop D

They say that everyone
Is moving on to you
But I can’t seem to get myself
To fall in love with you

Drop D.
Why me?
Drop D.
Why me?
Drop D.
What do I do?
I can’t seem to get myself
to fall in love with you

They say you make the strings
Much easier to work
But low registers don’t work for me
They leave me in the dirt

Drop D.
Why me?
Drop D.
Why me?
Drop D.
Why me?
Why me?

whatmarkism volume.15

Always be a work-horse. Never be a workaholic.

Join me for Brunchner?

Breakfast + lunch is Brunch

Lunch + Dinner is Linner

Well, a friend of mine is now popularising a revolutionary concept called Brunchner.

yes, you guessed it. Breakfast + Lunch + Dinner! all in one sitting

The ritual starts at around 11.30 am and the meal goes on till night fall.

When asked to comment on this lifestyle, he simply said, "Not when I'm eating."

But rumor has it that he is chewing on the idea of pioneering Brunchnerack.

Yes, You guessed it. Breakfast + Lunch + Dinner + Midnight snack!

As of publishing this post, our correspondent is still waiting for his comments.

This could take a while. Please be patient.

Rock On!

It seems like everyone i know thinks my life would be incomplete without watching Rock On. So here's the good news: I watched Rock On.

Yeah they told my story for most parts with honesty. "Screw advertising. Let's hit the stage."

Ok, whatmark will put thoughts down in point format so your comments can be more focused. (yes, yes you have to comment).

1. Great Movie.

2. If they really had the balls to be true to every Indian rock musician, they would've been an English band. Playing covers to the gallery and occasionally sneaking in an original. But i guess they had to make the "minor" change of being a Hindi rock act.

3. It was really nice of Channel V to allow themselves to be portrayed as the Musician-bullying, pander-to-the-audience, V-don't-give-a-shit-about-your-sound company they are.

4. Nice of Anu Mallik to agree to the guest appearance. Again, honesty in the fact that his keyboard player is not happy. ;-]

5. Hats off to Javed Akthar for making it look easy to cross the generation gap, and write like a 25 year old. (Damn!)

6. They should have deleted the scene where they re-compose a song. That was laughable at best. "Hey guys let's try something different ... you change beat + you change scale + you change riff + I'll sing same lyric = tadaa!"

7. Umm where's the bassie? I know they tried to imply Luke Kenny was handling it on keyboards. Really Luke, Really? (Bassie's please note: your days are numbered. Show up for practice you bastards.)

8. While the music was good, I'm sure Indian lead guitar players could do much much better.

9. Frankly if they followed Charkaview's kick-ass act, with the na-na-na-na song, they would never have won. Oh wait it was a channel V thingie. I stand corrected.

10. Arjun Rampal looked delicious. But he should've put a little more work into acting like he was playing lead. And yes, I'm still straight.

11. Purab was fabulous.

12. Luke should never cut his hair. Still have a ton of respect for him, though his character was kinda ... umm ... girlie?

13. Farhan's vocals made it very honest and believable. Thank you for screaming three times.

14. Guitar players please note: India's hottest band used a Zoom G2! Yay! I have one which i use to tune my acoustic guitar.

15. There are three small mistakes in the music: Shankar, Loy and Ehsaan. Love them otherwise. Not the best choices for this job.

16. They should've named the Kid Rabindranath. And then started calling him "Rob" after he got a job as a Writer in an ad agency. Correct no?

17. Again, great movie. (I'm suffering from PMS as i write this.)

THE DOOR.

"You've hurt me more than anyone else in the world.

Don't ever call me again. Delete my number.

Delete all my mails. Don't ever inquire about me."

Her words were soft ... shaky.

On the other end of the phone, he didn't say anything.
He didn't feel anything.

"Goodbye," She said a little shakier than before.

It was noon.

He said nothing.

There was no drama. No graphic ending to a friendship he'd fought to keep.

No crescendos. No crashes. No quick flashes of happier times.

The day went by like any other.

Somewhere around midnight he heard a distant voice.

Something inside stirred.

"You've hurt me more than anyone else in the world"

Straining for strength, his spirit shuffled to its knees and crawled.

"Don't ever call me again"

Over to a heavy door.

"Delete my number"

He leaned against it ... it groaned as it shut.

"Delete all my mails."

On Auto-pilot, his hands turned a rusty key.

"Don't ever inquire about me."

Exhausted, he slumped his back against the door he'd cautiously opened, after a long, self-imposed imprisonment.

It was locked again.

Curling up in the comfort of a fetal position, he slowly began to bleed.

"Goodbye."

one night in bang-coke

Traveling on a film shoot, I was determined to explore Bangkok's night life.

"You could get robbed." "You could get cheated."

(Heck what ever happened to "You could get laid.")?

Anyway I steeled myself for it. And headed to Patpong Market.

Down the middle of the narrow streets are fold-and-go shops selling everything from T-shirts to fake Gucci bags, while the streets are lined with topless pool bars, bars promising sex shows, Go-go dance bars - all staffed with extremely pretty girls. Going alone is possibly the dumbest thing to do, but i was determined to walk this rope with no safety nets.

I walked up and down the four of five short streets several times - accosted at every fifth step men emerging from the shadows "sex show?" "no charge for looking" "Massage?" "No charge for looking" "P***y ping pong?" "no charge for looking".

It took me several marches up and down to finally muster the courage to nod my head to one of the men who stealthily guided me to a back alley and up dark stairs.

I was in.

I sat in a corner and ordered a coke. 100 baht said the menu. Not bad i thought.

There they were. Bathed in harsh UV lights and occasionally changing colored strobes, writhing to the music. There they were - the women every cab driver, every tuk-tuk driver, every man bumming on the side walk had been trying to sell to me.

It was obvious that they were bored, as they strutted topless, and undressed further.

I was barely getting used to the lighting when my coke can was brought in a little extra - two ultra petite women.

"Tu Hora?" one asked rather loudly.

It took me a few seconds to realize she meant "two whores?"

I was flattered. I declined politely. I swear I declined. really. No da, really i declined.

They pouted a little and walked away.

A lady on the stage launched a ping pong ball from between her legs, to a slightly older European guy and i think he caught it. Yes from between her legs! why do you think they called it ping-pong, you idiot?

I was barely three sips into my coke when another two women came up to me. They weren't petite. They could be best described as female equivalent of bouncers.

One poked a handwritten bill to me and it said 1400 baht. 100 for the coke. 1000 for the "show". and 300 for, i guess, not kicking my ass for saying "no hora".

I protested and the burly lady yelled

"PAYYYYYYYYYYY".

"PAYYYYYYYYYYY."

Since I'm such a gentleman, I paaaaaaaaaid them 1000 baht. They didn't argue.

As I walked out quickly, i stole one last glance at the bored dancers.

Laughing at myself.

For being such a sucker.

For not enjoying the most talked about tourist attraction in BKK.

For leaving behind the most expensive Coke I ever bought.



PS: In retrospect i realize i was the one who got stripped :-).

Hetchism

"We get so caught up with what we don't have that we completely miss what we can have."

A quote from Hetch. (He thinks! He thinks! The guy does think!)

whatmarkism volume.14

Isn't it a pity we haven't discovered a pain-killer to
ease a hurt inflicted by words?

whatmarkism volume.13

Apparently, God never switches His mobile off.

whatmarkism volume.12

self-evaluation should be a journey towards self-esteem.
Not self-pity.

Keep walking, buster.

Doctor Crunchy!

Walked in to a doctor's office.

the first thing that told me to run was that he looked just like the head scientist from the Bingo commercials.

Anyway i stayed.

He then asked me, "You are from India only aah?"

"yes of course" i replied meekly.

Holding back the more venomous
"Why? Haven't you seen an Indian who looks like a bloody Indian before?"

Again i should have run, but i stayed.

Then he sticks the thermometer in my armpit and after two minutes of smiling at me
with a mix of pity and kindness, he took the thermometer back.

His face lit up as he almost-proudly announced.

"99!"

Now that was something neither my Math lecturers nor my English lecturers never able to say to me!

Yes he was proud of me.

I should have run but i stayed.

Then he slapped me with a 300 rupee bill! (i already paid 50 bucks for registration).

Three minutes later I walked out laughing out loud. At him. At myself.

And it was all worth it. If ever laughter was the best medicine, it was right then.

I'm glad i stayed.

whatmarkism volume.11

Don't go assuming that all your sadness is permanent;
and all your happiness is temporary.


PS: thank you letters will be graciously accepted.

whatmarkism volume.10

One for the women:

"Don't question the question. Answer it."

Man enough to wear pink?

Really.

Do you dare take a stand and say "hey, it's just a bloody color - it doesn't define who i am, how i feel or hold any clues about my sexuality."?

Huh? Stop flexing those triceps and tell me.

Stop stroking that little goatee and answer me.

Can you step into a store, and say as loudly as you can "great shirt - do you have it in PINK?"

come on, look inside. You're a man - you can find the courage.

Don't be afraid. Just Do it.

And when you do, send me a picture.

i haven't got anything in that shade.

whatmarkism volume.9

This, I find, is the hardest part about my journey: everybody leaves.
:-(

Someday, I

Thanks to a good friend, I read book yesterday. Tuesdays with Morrie.
among all the other things, it opened my eyes to how precious every single day of our life is.

And how important the people we surround ourselves with are.

So in the end, i did something that I've been fighting for along time. I picked up my guitar.
and i dug up the last song that i wrote.

A song called "Someday I". A song about how you can keep postponing your dreams or goals until it might be too late to pursue them.

I looked at the date i wrote it, and it hit me hard: July 2006. Yesterday was July 2008.

I had sulked about my music not going anywhere significant for two years thinking it was no more than a few months.

And the irony was i had written the lyrics, but somehow it seems like i didn't read the lyrics enough to believe it.

i never got into music for the fame or money or the girls. I always said id play for 5 or 500 with the same energy. And i did - for 10 years. Despite a good number of people telling me they loved my work - and that i should never stop - i did.

I guess i just lost my way. I also lost a big piece of Myself.

i think what im trying say is, I'm ready to start writing songs again.

My "someday I" was yesterday.

whatmarkism volume.8

"Clutter your life with good people, not with good things."

those three little words!

Bundu, you suck: coming from a friend it's a endearing description.

Bundu, you suck: coming from an enemy it's an apt insult.

Bundu, you suck: coming from a sage, it's a startling revelation.

Bundu, you suck: coming from himself, it's a baseline.

Bundu, you suck: coming from a girl, it's a romantic request.

Bundu, you suck: coming from the gym instructor, it's a command.

whatmarksim volume.7

"Your problem looks largest when you're standing smack in the center."

whatmarkism volume.6:

"If you ignore a voice long enough,
it will eventually go way."

PS: Unfortunately, this is true both of the dreams as well as the derogatory.

whatmarkism volume.5:

When someone says "I need to pee badly",
do they go into the loo and pee all over the place?

Finding Name-o: adventures of Asterix & Obelix

I don't think anyone has showed as much imagination with names as the
creators of Asterix & Obelix - Goscinny and Uderzo.

So I'm going to put down from memory what i remember with a descriptor, and hope you'll add your favourites, and I'll update it.

* Fullyautomatix: Blacksmith

* Unhygenix: Fish Monger

* Bacteria: Unhygenix's wife

* Geriatrix: Oldest man in the village

* Vitalstatistix: The chief

* Impedimenta: First Lady

* Metallurgix: The goldsmith who makes golden sickles

* Pussilanimus: Cowardly Roman

* Cacofonix: The Bard

* Tragicomix: A chief's son from The Great Divide.

* Getafix - the druid (courtesy Jeriel)

* Dogmatix - you know who (Courtesy Kavita)

* Justforkix - the chief's nephew from the Normans (courtesy Kavita)

whatmarkism: volume.4

"You make your worst moves when you're feeling sorry for yourself."

Smoke Signals

Points to ponder:

If a girl who's good looking takes a puff, does it make her smoking hot? (thank you Dannielle)

What exactly is smoke on the water about?

Why did i watch Smokey and the Bandit 25 times?

Have you listened to Smokie lately?

Is a volcano mother earth's smoke signal?

How come anti-smoking campaigns are discussed between art directors and copywriters sharing a cigarette?

"we will smoke 'em out." who is the we in that statement?

"Smokin'" Quick! who said that?

whatmarkism: volume.3

"The road of good intentions will take you to nowhere."

whatmarkism: volume.2

"I get this sneaky feeling that life is slowly trying to kill me"

The man with 3 b***s?

Ok this is a Salute.

To a friend who risked life and limb to puruse a 12-year dream to ride from Delhi to Leh on a bullet. (Rumor has it, that he waited long so that he could grow enough body hair to withstand the cold. But that is a just rumor).

Anyway, to be completely fair to both him and his trusted bullet, i think it's fabulous that someone would have the determination and all the borderline signs of dementia to actually do this. (Rumor has it that the bullet has the determination, he shows the dementia.)

ok, we're digressing.

So here's raising a toast to the quick and the brave. Ladies, Gentlemen, and Yaks of all ages, do join me a round of applause for the one and only: Mr. Hetch.


PS: the title is only temporary. and it does not stand for b-u-l-l-s, you imbecile!
Any suggestions?

whatmarkism: volume.1

"Damn! That's one ugly mirror!"

A Limerick

There once was a tourist in Leh,

Who learnt much to his dismay,

The girls dressed in layers of clothes.

Why he took so long no one knows.

And he remains a virgin to this day.

Addiction: to each his own

I know you can tell just by looking at my face
A word about my weakness
I'm totally addicted to bass
- Amiel


Its closer to the truth to say
you cant get enough,
you Know youre
Gonna have to face it,
youre addicted to love
- Robert Palmer


She never mentions the word addiction
In certain company
Yes, she'll tell you she's an orphan
After you meet her family
- The Black Crowes


I'm addicted to that rush
Every time we touch
Never get enough
'Cause I'm addicted to that rush - Yeow!
- Mr. Big


In a dream I cannot see
Tangled abstract fallacy
Random turmoil builds in me
I'm addicted to chaos
- Megadeth


I’m addicted baby
It’s plain to see
Your love’s
Got a hold on me
- LeRoux

Maybe I'm addicted,
I'm out of control,
but you're the drug
that keeps me from dying.
- Enrique

Sunday, Bloody Sunday.

The worst Sundays are when the Preacher manages to stab you in the heart repeatedly with the Truth.

Last Sunday was particularly ruthless. The man talked about his work with the Prostitutes living in Andheri, Mumbai.


Stab 1: The count stood at about 1 lakh girls.

Stab 2: The girl is most likely to be between 12 and 14.

Stab 3: Cost of buying a girl: Rs. 4000. (not for a night - for life)

Stab 4: The 4000-rupee girl was sold by her father.

Stab 5: The girls are initially raped and beaten so that their wills and spirits are broken.

Stab 6: Many of them will die of HIV-related diseases.

Stab 7: For reasons i don't understand, the girls can never leave. So when an offer was made, they handed over 32 "born-by-mistake-in-the-brothel" children aged between 1 and 3, to be taken to safer, better lives.



I am still bleeding.

What was that again?

I have the feeling i didn't quite get today's topic:

• A night under the sun
  That sounds completely impossible
  
  
• A night under: the Son
  Sounds like a vendetta-based trilogy
  
  
• A Knight under: the Son
  Sounds like a Porno re-make of the aforementioned trilogy
  
  
• A.Knight: Under the sun
  Sounds like a biography
  
  
• A Knight under the sun
  Could only be about sweating like crazy in an armor
  
  
• A night under the Son
  Sounds like every 16-year old village girl's dream come true
  
  
• A Knight under the Son
  Now that is just plain disgusting
  
  
• A.Knight: under the Son
  That would be the coming-out-of-the-closet biography.

The Heroes Project

whatmark is proud to present The Heroes Project.

No Spandex. No secret weapons. Just the power of belief pumping through human veins. This list is in no particular order, and if people keep living good lives, should get bigger as time goes on. Suggestions are most welcome.

DAVE GROHL.
Kurt commits suicide. Krist fades away. Dave wins Record of the Year.

No wallowing in self-pity for Nirvana's drummer.
Dave actually gives so much as the frontman of The Foofighters.
As on date, one of the biggest rockstars on the planet.

DR. BILLY GRAHAM.
For years I have watched him live the most extraordinary life.

His books are mines of insight and perspective. Yet when asked how he would like be remembered, Mr. Graham simply said, "As someone who was fun to be with". If only more Christians understood the truth in that.

LARRY NORMAN.
For many years, this hippie folk-rock singer-songwriter, wasn't afraid to tell it like is. Larry was never afraid to go against popular culture. Despite my fairly extensive exposure to good music, Billy Joel and Larry are still my favorite songwriters.

The world recently lost him to cancer.

BONO.
Not for giving us U2. But for all that he's doing to help Africa get rid of its debts. Bono “never leaves the room without a check”, and we're talking billions!

Seriously, The Edge, Larry and Adam share the same stage, but only Bono shares the burden.

JOHN SCHLITT.

I was never big on Petra. But seeing John Schiltt on stage made me want to be just like him. At the time of the concert he was 55 – a screeching rock-n-roll grandfather! With a history of rock steady character too. He's the single reason i shut right up when i feel like saying I'm too old to be in a band.

AMALA AKKINENI.

Amala’s Blue Cross has been on an uphill journey, fighting for animal rights in a city that doesn’t give a damn.

And they’re doing a bloody good job of it. Respect!

weapons of mass distraction

No more parking worries. Here's how.

We're sitting at a pizza place with one car parked on the road.
Sure enough the cops pull up, in their tow truck.

Like a bolt of lightning, the pretty girl jumps to her feet and dashes out.
Jumping over fellow pizza lovers and potted plants with determination, we notice she's got her fingers working furiously on the buttons of her snug-fitting green shirt.

I rise to my feet slowly, thinking "She's Lois Lane! She's Lois Lane! She's gonna emerge in her superwoman uniform and save the day."

sure enough she begins to unbutton her shirt frantically, running at superhuman speeds.

The third button snaps... the fourth ... the fifth. the last one. A primal tug down the middle of the shirt ... and off it goes!

It was like Demi in Striptease. Minus the pole, the music, the chair, and the gravity-defying you-know-whats. But best of all.... minus the dialogues.

And there she was, taking the world chest-on. but there was no bold 'S' she was flashing. Just a svelte 'VS'.

I know you've heard of shooting from the hip, but this was something else. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Five cops are taken down at their weak knees. (including one female, mind you!)

So did it work?

Well, no parking tickets were issued.

The car stayed put.

And the next morning I quietly sent out an application to volunteer for the tow truck duty.


PS: While I'm waiting for the "big" opportunity, Mariah's words have taken on a whole new meaning:

"When you think all hope is gone,
look inside you and be strong,
And then you'll finally see the truth
Superwoman lies in you."

I stink, therefore i am

The smell of sweat is sexy only when it's on Teri Hatcher or John Stamos.

Everybody else in the world needs a deodorant. That includes you.

This is non-negotiable.

No really.

You might argue that no one's ever complained. But that's a sign that you have very nice friends. Not that you don't need one - like right now.

so come on, don't be afraid. First times are always a little scary. But I'll hold your hand through this.

Step 1: Gently, easy your palm around the can. (See how and harmless it feels?)

Step2: Graciously lift arm.
Little more... little more nice and high ... there you go....

(MOTHER OF PEARL!!! I JUST SPOTTED THE YETI!)

Step 3: Spray until you feel the icicles form in your armpit. This again is non-negotiable


Step 4: Relax, lower hand and watch your friends heave a collective sigh of relief


I salute you. It's brave people like you who make this country what it is.

please, take a bow.

To Mac or not to Mac

I’ve been considering getting a laptop. So I thought I should get myself familiar with the local Macs. The one I’m referring to is definitely a “He”. (After all, the thought of pushing a “she’s” buttons just to get a little work done seems a little cheap on my part).

So here’s what I found out (you’re welcome to send in additions):

• Elle Mac-pherson: Woman he wants to sleep with ASAP.
  
  
• Mac-Donald’s: Favorite junk food
  
  
• GodsMac: Favorite rock act
  
  
• To kill a Macking bird: Last book he read
  
  
• Mac hoon na: Favorite Bollywood flick
  
  
• Mackenna’s Gold: Favorite Hollywood flick
  
  
• Old Mac Donald: Ring tone if he had a phone
  
  
• WhatMac: Blog name (if he ever gets around to it)
  
  
• Toby Macguire: Who he’d sleep with if he were (or turns) gay
  
  
• Machael learns to rock: Fave Pop act
  
  
• Machael Jackson: Guy he claims touched him up in several places when he was younger.
  
  
• For heaven’s sake, Mac up your mind: Auto-generated mail he sends out everyday to Hot Pink laptop
  
  
• I’ll be Mac: Hollywood catch phrase (which he claims to have invented!)
  
  
• Six Mac: Gym-ming goal
  
  
• Arre Mac-kaddey: What he says to every possible auto driver
  
  
• Mac-ki-kirkirri: Reaction of a virus attack
  
  
• Oh-Mac-God!: Favorite line from Friends
  
  
• Sexy Mac: Reason he’s a Timberlake fan
  
  
• I’ll Mac you scream, yeah baby: Pick up line that never worked for him.
  (for further proof, contact Hot pink laptop)
  
  
• You look even more beautiful without Mac-up: Standard morning-after line.
  
  
• Mac the most of what you’ve got: Motto in life

So. Think i should buy?

oh leave me Al-one!

"Floyd??"

"What's the Macarena?"

"Carbon Foot-what?"

"Michael who?"

"Who's Liv Tyler's father again?"

"Monica Geller is Ross Geller's wife, right?"

"There were 4 guys in the Beatles?!?"

"Why did Nirvana break up?"

"What do you mean she Bobbitted him?"

i might as well be guilty of any of those, because right here, right now i must confess,


"I know Jack about Al".

Sunscreen

Election results are being announced. The IPL is winding its way to a showdown. Obama and Hillary are so close at each other's throats they might as well start necking. The number of Tigers has dwindled again. Another (big) fuel hike looms large.

And what did we pick to write talk about?

Sunscreen.

"Really? Suncreen?"
(In Rachel Greene's tone)

I'd like to write it off as another "ladies product", but the imagery in my mind is not that of a Brazilian girl, but that of a XL-sized cricketer - charging down menacingly, predator-like locks jangling - almost threatening to mangle any random sardar.

And come to think of it, one of the largest buyers of sunscreen and its sister (brother?) products are South Indian men. can you hear them "Yenna Rascal-a, pass me the sunscreen-a"

So does that settle the debate as to whether it's a girlie thing?

I'm not fully convinced.

We'll talk about it later. I'm late for my pedicure.

K for Kshitty

FACT: This post is going make me very unpopular with the average Indian woman.


Ok, so we're discussing the Indian soap. For anyone who is male or has been blessed to be too busy to tune in, here is what you missed (over the 9 years).

Open on the daughter-in-law.
she announces she is pregnant. the father is the son of the family's arch business rivals.

The grandmother reacts. Hand on chest. She will do this every 6th episode. But she will never actually die.

Sitting in an airport in Singapore, the father reacts. His expression is stoic and will remain so until the child grows up. Because deep inside he knows that the guy who got her pregnant is his bastard son - from a long-standing affair he's been having.

The brothers all react with similar, not same, expressions of shock and horror. Being Mamma's boys they walk away from the million dollar deal they are signing and take the next flight home to be by their mother's side.

The Mother. Over the next 35 episodes she will be too busy consoling the uncles, aunts, sons, daughters-in-law, and the servant to even talk to the daughter and let her know things will be alright (once she agrees to abort ofcourse).

The Servant. If you do the math, the servant has actually been in the family for almost 300 years. he will be the one with real perspective of the situation, and will prevent the pregnant girl from committing suicide by tying herself to a Khaitan fan, with her Manish Malhotra. Dupatta.

The foetus. It will be a "He". For "He" will grow up to wreck revenge on the un-accepting family and will then have a change of heart after meeting the Mother, and discovering the mother's husband is his grandfather. "he" will also be deceptively charming, will be able to dance and his character will win awards for best villain, best anti-hero (yes there is a difference), best hero, best brother, best illegitimate child, best nephew, and best still-to-be-accepted-son-by-a-now-120-year-old-father.



Now that you know, you can get on with your life.

PS: Readers are requested not to send in anymore "THANK YOU" mails.

My experiments with bird poop

2 am.

I was returning home my (un)faithful kinetic honda (ugh!).

It was the time before MTV got bastardized by Bollywood. This was also back SD Road straddled a line of full grown trees - occupied by noisy black crows.

so there i was riding down at top speed - singing - when the sinister plan was 'dumped' on me.

Now it is critical that you understand that i was singing along to Aerosmith's 'Cryin'. Which, for the completely lost, means my mouth was wide open.

Then it happened.

i felt a distinct splat. a bitter taste assaulted my tongue. moments later, i felt my mouth go numb. And it was all over.

the singing stopped. and i swear i heard the crows laugh as they exchanged high fives with their dirty black wings.

Their mission was accomplished.

a decade on, i still sing. but i now restrict myself to Nirvana. Which, for the completely lost, means my jaw is tightly clenched.

And i prefer to do it under the shelter of a Sierra's dependable roof.

But looking on the bright side , i can now look you in the eye and confidently say,

"i know bird poop better than you."

you want to question that?

My password

I'll keep it simple.

I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

Urgent: Photoshopper wanted

Put the HIM on the HIMalayas.

Having been granted an unearned, 2-week leave, a friend of mine desperately needs to feign a trip to the Himalayas.

To this end, we are now desperately looking for an expert in photoshop. the job involves clipping images of a guy and his friends, and then compositing them with images of the Ranges.

The ability to also superimpose a bullet in the background is mandatory. (Since the Bullet is the only one in the group with any prior experience.) All images are available with us in high resolution.

You have just under two weeks to complete the assignment, and compensation is not a constraint for the right candidate.

First Night

This is my first post.

On my first blog.

It's taken me 5 years of resistance, and 30 minutes of rewriting to get here.

I now fully understand why they say the first step is the hardest.