Sincerity of the south Indian love

There was a quite famous blog (An Open Letter to a Delhi Boy) written by self proclaimed Madrasan last year, which shocked many egos. I liked it, it inspired me. As I myself have seven months in South India under my belt, I would like to present a little glimpse of  it as seen from my eyes.

My friend Gurpreet has three things on his mind; Love, Chennai-ites (I find madrasi offensive), and food. Lets just ignore the third one, and mix up the love and superclass of Chennai i.e. South India. Deep down we all know south Indians are more sincere than us if not anything else, and there lies a veracity in their love or being more peculiar the way they express it.

I saw a south Indian unmarried couple sometime ago, well it is a rare sight in Gurgaon. At first glance they didn’t look like that they were on a date or something, because in NCR eyes a date means an over-glamored girl with an over-pretentious guy in an over-hyped environment, not to mention the expenses over a date are always overboard.  Well I assume they came there straight from office and silently sharing a plate of pav-bhaji. No hands on ass, no kisses on neck, yet they were  enjoying their last evening of 2011 as they were the only two survivors of the planet. The sincerity of the south Indian love encapsulated them from the world full of vulture visionaries.

I saw one of the similar variety on the Thiruvanimayur local station in Chennai. They were together but maintaining a distance, after all railway platform are not the platforms to showcase public display of affection. Train came they sat, and that what is important if they get seats they sit, if they get one unfortunately, the boy shows his respect and let the girl sit. What happens in Delhi metro we all have seen or many of us have done. The position of a couple at platform and in train, in analogous to foreplay and main action of a soft porn. They play Di’Caprio and Winslet of  Titanic while waiting in the line, Butler and Swank of P.S. I love you if they get seats, and * Emraan and Mallika * of murder if they get the standing space beside the metro gate. That standing space is so hot in demand that often seats are ignored for them, and if it is a group date you will find more than one couple per space. While they are treating their other half as touch pad, the bystanders/sitters have shame in their eyes. Here once again the sincerity of South Indian love respects the views of the world, and don’t let the love be mistaken as lust.

Up here in the NCR most of the affairs don’t end up in marriage, because parents of many don’t agree. Actually a majority can’t gather the courage to let their parents know of their wishes. Ignoring the issue and parting the ways is all they do, but again in most of the cases. Down in south where affairs are rare, the sincerity of south Indian love, provides enough courage to get the parents consent for marriage, and they happily live ever after.

I am not implying that having an affair up here is easy, yet in NCR it is more of a commodity, so use and throw cases are common.

Down their youth love is in scarcity, so finding it is equivalent to finding treasure, and nobody throws treasure, as it is meant to be treasured.

P.S:- Gurpreet you cook good, you are sincere, just find one south Indian girl, because down there it is Engeyum Kadhal.

*….*: I have used Emraan and Mallika because Indians will remain Indians when it comes to Sex.

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The Unholy Revelation 1

Thy shall not dig the past of others, they put a lot of efforts to bury it in the first place.

–Virla Desi 1.1

Thy haveth a mother, I had something other, so is to, am gathering all the crap thrown at me.

–Virla Desi 1.2

Don’t thy be nice to me, I am too fragile to face the aftermath.

–Virla Desi 1.3

I am not among the riches unlike some, waiting for me stars to shine, it may or may not happen; until then accept a plea, try not to treat my dignity as an object thy can enjoy playing with.

–Virla Desi 1.4

It may have happened a long ago during the early pupillage, but a passer by still feels the smell of fresh blood dripping on that mosaic slab, coming through the ajar window of those hoary ruins.

–Virla Desi 1.5

O, the fetus of my unborn brother, I envy you in my dreams, as thy never faced the wrath, I endured.

–Virla Desi 1.6

IT Aunty

By far I the IT guy has been my most viewed blog post, so keeping in mind the relative success of that post, I am penning down my experiences about the great industry once again that has opened the floodgates of employment in the modern times. The only flipsyde is that I have switched the sexes, and changed the relationship status of the protagonist. So here is how a married woman spends her typical workday as employee of an IT company in India.

Note: The office hours are considered as 9 A.M. to 6 P.M. , and supposedly lunching practices can be observed between 12:30 to 2:30 for half an hour.

0800 hrs: The cab driver is honking rapidly, he is waiting for a female employee, who actually told him 15 minutes ago that she would be in the cab with in next five minutes. The driver is twenty minute behind schedule, and today he will definitely be struck in the jam at toll plaza near ambiance mall; but how could she leave before she finds her ID card. Ah she found her ID, but now her hair are slightly disturbed, so the cabby is obliged to linger for five more minutes at least. The engine started and wheels rolled at 0807 hrs; courtesy IT aunty.

0854 hrs:  As anticipated the cab is stuck at Mahipalpur, driver has tuned in to 98.3 Mirchi FM. RJ played Jalebi Bai, and the innocent driver committed the sin of humming one line of song along with the radio. Suddenly he started getting chastised for playing bawdy songs when girls are sitting in the cab. Now the point to note down is, there were three passengers in the cab, two guys who actually were enjoying the song before the rebuttal began and third was the aforementioned woman; where does a girl come from? The so call girl my friends is the IT Aunty in her own dreams.

0917hrs: The cab has arrived in front of the office, while signing off* the driver, she gave him a look of “you will burn in the fires of hell” type. I would like to devote some words on the luggage she happens to carry then. One handbag which is larger than the schoolbag of a 4th grader (I hope you know the size of the mentioned schoolbag, due to the controversies surrounding it), one laptop bag, one handicraft bag which contains a Tupperware™ case, that incidentally happens to contain four small boxes of lunch. The special attraction today is a poly bag which is the home of a coconut oil bottle, as she had shampooed her hair today. So for complete nutrition of her silky locks it is essential to oil them after they dry, after all she is out IT Aunty.

The story of the handicraft bag: Once in a while some NGOs visit our office, with some
handicraft stuff, reportedly made by under privileged children, and essentially overpriced.
The money earned by selling those products in turn is deployed for the well being of poor
children.Over time she and her fraternity had bought so many of the bags, that the NGO has
stopped visiting our office, because the amount of money they earned was so much, that no
child is under privileged in their NGO.

0933hrs: She leaves her seat for washroom, with the handbag and the poly bag. The happenings inside the ladies washroom are censored, as I don’t want to turn into an adult stuff blogger so soon, but my other “Unmarried” female anonymous sources  have told me that she oiled her hair, gave them a new style, and did some other girly stuff. Then she caught hold off another girl who unfortunately was known to her, checked her makeup as a veterinarian checks a sick buffalo, gave some silly tips, and at last decided to take matters in her own hands. At 0951 hrs a girl who resembled the models in Haryanvi song videos was found roaming in the company premises. Do you know who her beautician was? Our IT Aunty.

Between 1000 hrs and 1215 hrs: She argued with somebody for a chair and after switching the chairs realized that the other chair was actually her’s. She opened a biscuit packet dropped half of them while opening, pretended to offer the remaining ones to her colleagues, ended up finishing the whole packet alone, and then fretted over her ever increasing weight. She switched on her laptop, had a vision that she forgot her password, called the system maintenance department, fought with them over the phone for resetting her password ASAP, as she has to do a lot of work. When the password changed she logged in, marked her attendance (most efficient resource when it comes to marking attendance and applying leaves), checked some funny mails, and then broadcasted them thorough out the ODC**. A fresher in that ODC was suggested to work very hard, put his best efforts towards learning new technologies.He obliged by saying thanks, and he got some extra line of codes to do in place of customary your welcome. The persona that made the career changing suggestion is our IT Aunty.

1235hrs: Two humans of female variety are on the front of food cashier queue, and there is an important discussion going on about what to have in lunch. At the back queue size is growing exponentially by the minute. After five minutes the decision is out, they have opted to eat at the other outlet today. O my dear IT Aunty, you are so full of surprises.

1243hrs: She took the food coupon by overpowering and ignoring others who were living in the hope of getting a food coupon by following the principle of queue. She pushed and glared a whole lot of individuals to reach at the top of hierarchy, the food counter. At present she is arguing with one food vendor for extra pickle, and she is advising other one on how to make good grill sandwiches, completely unknown of the fact that the raita (Yogurt dish) from her plate has dripped all over my shirt. At last I also had my share of blessings from IT Aunty.

1315hrs: It is good to have a walk after having food, so she decided to have a stroll. As she does a lot a drudgery on daily basis, and she is not that young (although she has maintained her youth if you ask her), she gets tired she decides to occupy the stairs for a while for having a nice little chit chat with her friends. Meanwhile I am off to my friend’s PG*** to change the shirt, after accepting the apologies of IT Aunty; did I had another choice nien, remember I the IT guy, I never have a choice.

1430hrs: I came back after changing shirts and she is still on the same stair. She rationalized her stand on the raita incident once again, made some remark on my new shirt, and off she goes to her cubicle, to conquer the world. IT Aunty the IT worker.

1630hrs: Now that she has actually managed to work for ~7200000 milliseconds, she has the right to go for evening snacks. So I will spare myself from repeating the words as most probably the history would repeat itself in the cafeteria. IT Aunty is very consistent with her demeanor to quote the least.

1715hrs: She calls the cabby and inquire about the possibilities of leaving early. When she gets a negative reply, she calls the other driver (read husband), to pick her up and drop her home. The hapless fella can’t deny, he will drop her home, and then will come back to his office. Yet he as a faithful servant sorry husband is expected to be home before 9 o’clock and take her out for a dinner, because after having a hard day at work she can’t cook.

Between 1720hrs and the time till driver comes: She will read some feminine stuff on some fashion website, tell her superior if any that she is leaving (yes they don’t ask, the are kind enough to tell). She uses the office phone to make some personal calls in a professional way, and she says goodbye for the day.

When I see her departing, I croon a famous number by La’s

There she goes
There she goes again
Racing through’ my brain
And I just can’t contain
This feelin’ that remains

There she blows
There she blows again
Pulsing through’ my vein

And I just can’t contain
This feelin’ that remains

There she goes, there she goes again.

*It is a procedure of signing a slip at your drop off point, that signifies that driver hasn’t kidnapped you.

**Offshore Development Center, where you can get your work done by paying below minimum wages.

***The literal meaning is Paying Guest, but in Haryana, India the word means the mazes “Jahan Insaan Jata to Apni Marzi Se Hai, Lekin Aata Ya to Makaan Malik ki Marzi Se Hai, Ya Uski Security Amount Jabt Ho Jati Hai.”

Suspense: If any body of you have noticed that she brought her own lunch but yet she bought meals from cafeteria, that is the reason of her ever increasing weight. Finish the lunch, before the lunch is her mantra.

The Biscuit Story || A Walk to Remember

Yes this is a boy girl story or it will be more appropriate if I call it a baba – baby story. The protagonist is a three year old, not so cute boy, this is about his affections, his determination to walk the girl to her home; but what it turned out to be the longest walk taken by any human of that age in the part of our country known as Malout, a not so small town in Mukatsar district of Punjab.

September 1991, I was three year old, perfectly completing my duties of visiting my maternal grandfather’s house for the fourth time that year with my mother. Malout no matter how small it was or still is has always remained popular for punjabi salwar suits. So my mom, once in for all forgot about me and was busy shopping. However my aunty (Mausi/Masi *used interchangeably*) was in charge of me, as she didn’t had her own offspring at that time, she was too fascinated with the moves of a tiny but not so cute Satan.

Well perfectly speaking even if I don’t remember, I am sure that I was getting bored. Aunty wasn’t letting me down. Huh what she thought that I was a kiddo ,but this is what I might be thinking “come on mausi I am grown up now, I know how to piss and how to do number two by myself, without any help; but definitely I need someone to wash me off.”  Then she came the cutie pie in her mother’s lap, and upon watching me her mother started yelling at her baby, vekh chhota bachha- vekh chhota baccha (look at the small boy).  My luck favored me probably for the last time and she responded to her mother’s commands. Ah those eyes, lekin wo aankhen; aankhon me jhanken or behkayen mujhe (Those eyes force me towards insanity)

Soon my masi and that new aunty were busy discussing about some new suit designs. I as the ultimate opportunist got away from the claws, and got closer to the girl. Her name was guddu, (yeah I know every household in North India had/has/will have a guddu/kaku in their home at some point of time), but it was the sweetest thing I heard till then. We pretend to play with a toy for some time , but actually we were having some grown up talk.Then she started walking out, and towards her home, yes without her mother, so as a gentleman that I was, I decided to walk her. I secretly hoped that it would be my walk to remember.  There was a punjabi classic folk in the air pichhe pichhe aunda meri chal venda aayin ve (If you are following me, then watch my back).

Things that started well soon turned out to be bad. Her grandmother came out of nowhere, and picked her up. I decided to play smart, I didn’t want anybody to know of our love, so I started strolling aimlessly, but with one eye on my sweetheart. Before getting into her home, she gave me that assurance look, that insurance agents gave to their new baits. That look cast a spell on me, and I forgot about everything and I kept on walking, walking, and walking.

Back at home soon it was realized that the children are missing. The new aunty rushed towards her home and she found her guddu, but where was Ishu? My mother with all her perfect timing landed home, and inquired about me, the reply she got in return was a long, and loud howler from my masi. As a world class pessimist, my masi even made promises to give her first child to my mother. On the other hand I in my white Kurta Pyjama (starched white clothing) was inspecting the area like an MLA, until I felt a urge for something to eat.

The rescue squad (my mamas), were called into action. They went to every colony, of the town, and started announcing via loudspeakers of temples, and gurudwaras. They made a specific mention that the child was wearing a white kurta pyjama when he was last seen, but as he is a child with rowdy instincts it can be of any color by now. Finally somebody responded to the call, he came rushing towards a temple in Camp Area of Malout, met my uncle, told him that they found a child wearing lemon chiffon kurta pyjama, aimlessly strolling and asking for biscuits.

When my uncles found me I was happily sitting on a cot, surrounded by ladies, nibbling over a biscuit, in my brand new lemon chiffon kurta pyjama. I returned home a survivor, but I never met that girl again.

I walked for 1.1 KM only, but still it remains a walk to remember.

Epilogue:

  • My mausi still has two children, she constantly bickers over their habits, and sometimes wishes why one of them never got lost.
  • The grandmother of guddu, soon became most hated lady of the community as she ignored a helpless child on the road, but she still lives at the age of 79.
  • My mother keeps on visiting Malout thrice a year still, and unfortunately her salwar suit shop is still up and running.
  • Guddu got married in 2009, at time of marriage her weight was 81 KG, the lowest in last 5 years before her marriage. I wish her luck and I wonder at my luck.
  • I still have to go to the home where I was found nibbling, whenever I visit Malout. There is a helluva beautiful girl in that household, but I call her mother mausi.
  • I don’t eat biscuits, because if my mother asks me what do you want with tea, and suppose if I say biscuit then she will reply, “If you want biscuits, then why don’t you go to camp?”

Liebster Blog Award

Pyjama Warrior has displayed overwhelming kindness shortly after Christmas to give me my first Liebster blog award. I have recently started and he is the best among the ones I follow. Read mind blowing posts by this man @ http://thepyjamawarrior.wordpress.com/.

As I have mentioned that I am a newbie in the circle of bloggers, I have quite a few to select from these are the four works of words I adore, and hope that I can be as good as them.

To all guys and girls who have written these awesome blogs, I urge please keep on writing. As you all are my inspirations.

Once again I would like to thank PYJAMA WARRIOR for the Liebster.

The Steps to accept the award:-

1. Say thank you to the person who nominated you in an acceptance post and mention the URL of their blog.

2. Include a snap of Liebster Blog Award in your acceptance post.

3. Nominate 5-7 blogs that have less than 200 followers, but who deserve more recognition according to you.

As I write today

As I write today, the year 2011 AD, is about to end.

Many will blow the horns about the things Homo Sapiens have achieved in the year going by, but a few will look back and ponder upon the losses and calamities that were brought upon the humanity by the same homo sapiens who claim to be wisest and smartest species ever to occupy a small planet, “Mother Earth” as we call it, which is a resident of the solar system of a comparatively smaller galaxy Milky Way.

All of us are good runners when it comes to something that provides us enjoy, happiness, wealth in short benefit; but our feet cease too move and what is more shocking that our mind hibernates when the matter relates to something which does not offer us direct profits.

We run after our governments to cut the prices as we can buy less with the same money with which we used to buy more, but we never walk forward to a man who never had a penny to eat a healthy dinner.

We run after our police, shouting their inability to cop with the crime and criminals, but the sound of a car security alarm irritates us. We never give it a shimmer of thought that somebody’s hard earned and  well invested money is about to be stolen.

We run after our employers for promotions, raises, bonuses, and blah blah, but often the donation boxes kept at the reception of our companies are filled up to 10% of their capacity, were we too rigid to have a stroll towards them.

We run after our politicians for being corrupt, we chastise them, we participate in marches against them, our walls are overfilled with words of anger against them; but the same us never hesitate to offer the green leaf to make ourselves bridges over blunders for which we should be accounted and punished for.

We run after comfort and coziness, impatient and irritated enough whenever we encounter a day of extra heat,cold, or rain, but we never contemplate about those breeds which no longer exist, because out greed contaminated the nature and ecology to an extent that they could not hold on.

We run away from all the above any many more problems within us, very shy to encounter them until they touch out fingertips, because it is too easy to ignore them unless it is the judgement day.

But we ignore a very simple fact, our life is not a sprint, it is a marathon. So running fast will not solve the problems for us. The word human has originated from dhghem which means Earth, and everything we are doing is against the Earth and its residents.

We all must have read that Problem lies within”  as is the “Solution“. So start introspecting and start changing, as a popular branch of Computer Science ADA (Algorithm Design and Analysis) provides a way of problem solving known as DP (Dynamic Programming). DP tells us that optimal solution of a problem can be derived by combining the optimal solutions of the sub-problems of that problem. Start adopting the dynamics of DP, and sooner or later we are gonna make a change, and hence a better world.

If we don’t take a serious diversion from our existing ways, then we will be very unlucky if we have to live beyond 2012.

I the IT guy

Hello brothers. As I write almost 700 million people work in the same industry as me, and from my statistics at least 66% of them are male (counted by sex not by sexual orientation); hence the figure comes out to be ~462 million, that is the number of brothers I have even though many of them will be as old as my uncles, but we shared, share and will be sharing some incidents, thoughts, and accidents, which are as universal as GMT. I attempt to write the plight in this manner:

I the IT guy,

I got selected into a company from a campus drive, so many were picked that the leftovers were the real privileged ones.

I the IT guy,

I always hoped and wished secretly that I will get my training at my preferable location as my seniors, but my wishes were declined as part of some heavenly conspiracy. Yet I booked my flight tickets with a zeal that can rarely be matched.

I the IT guy,

I always aspired for those cool cubicles, state of the art machinery, and cute coffee machines, but I got state of a fart (public toilet like) cubicles, cute machinery (inefficient), and cool coffee machines (so cool that they worked as per their wishes).

I the IT guy,

I the IT guy who could never get through a single chapter before the exam is lurking around the corner, was fed with so much of Java, SQL, and C++ during the training phase that I will be sick with the programming constipation throughout my life for sure and may be afterwards.

I the IT guy,

I again hoped against the hope that after training I will be allocated to the location of my choice, but I came face to face with the real world, when I was forced to land in a city where I could not understand a word.

I the IT guy,

I recollected my shattered spirit, and once again yearned for a project where I can show my real self; but I was forcefully included in the largest team called bench. Till date, I never understood why it is called bench, because during my tenure with it, I sometimes didn’t even find a empty stair to sit upon in the office, forget about a bench.

I the IT guy,

I got a project, as I had lost all my will to work by now; I was bound to be in a project of great importance to the company, yes IT companies have their own sense of “sense of humor”.

I the IT guy,

I joined my project. As usual against my wishes I got a production support project, night shift, seat next to the project manager (PM), no girl in the project, even no girl in the 20 yard radius from my seat, no cab facility, and no night shift allowance. I still thank that all night canteen which was more than 4 KM away from my office, but with all its unhygienic food it saved my life.

I the IT guy,

I sustained so many knowledge transfer sessions, that at a point in time I could not not spell my name. Every facilitator was a performer of the highest degree, destiny’s chosen child to enlighten the lowly souls, as per his/her thoughts. I was the mere mortal who was destined to die once, but died again and again in the holy name of KT.

I the IT guy,

I pushed myself beyond limits every time but always skipped the deadline. One day I understood the real meaning of deadline, which is “only dead can reach this line”.

I the IT guy,

I listened to a strange word one day, onsite. At first the very sensation of this word was delightful, I remember those goosebumps. The word became a paranoia, a thing like ghosts; everybody talks of them but nobody has seen them.

I the IT guy,

I received my goal sheet one day and I was bewildered. The things I am paid for are not my goals, and my goals are things which can do no profit to anybody. Still for the sake of a rating I did those certifications with the help of dumps, I copied those attributes from others, and I highly rated myself in every goal. The appraiser evaluation was the negation of all the aspirations.

I the IT guy,

I work hard, but I only expect a B band as best case scenario. It is nothing like that I am skeptical of my abilities, it is only that I am afraid of the side effects of a A. I always get a C, and the hike associated with this C, contradicts with the literal meaning of word hike.

I the IT guy,

I put more overtime hours than regular hours just for a rating of 4, I got 3 same as the other dude who used to come late and go early.

I the IT guy,

I was never good with girls, and strangely I liked all the girls as beggars don’t choose. I could never muster enough courage to go and propose one of them. If I would have, deep down I know they were too smart to marry a fellow IT human being. They had their targets in managers, doctors, MBAs, plumbers, electricians, rickshaw-pullers, i.e. anyone but IT guys.

I the IT guy,

I became synonym of donkey, dog, pig, horse with time. Maybe this was the example of multitasking which I never understood during my college days.

I the IT guy,

I saw several representatives of credit card companies giving lucrative, offers outside my office. I was annoyed with them, so I decided to tell them that they were standing outside an IT company, and the very next day came with a sigh of relief. They even took their pamphlets from the wall with them.

I the IT guy,

I was not feeling good one day so I tried to go home by nine o’clock, I got an excellent remark from my lead which I still treasure, “come on man, you are an engineer, you guys finished whole Lord Of The Rings(LOTR)  series in one night, now you could not stay back for one more hour.” That one hour my friends was larger than all the seasons of “Big Bang Theory” combined.

I the IT guy,

I can talk about anything and everything with anyone and everyone, but I always avoid the word salary in my conversations. It is my darkest secret, and I don’t want it to see the light of a day.

I the IT guy,

I smoke, I drink, I struggle, I die.

I the IT guy,

I never had a choice.