Posts Tagged ‘Humour’

Gender Sins – Typically me!

(Humble request: To be taken with a pinch of salt)

Ok, I’ve been tagged by Deeps, Hitchy and Masood, been dropped hints in comments and even threatened to take up this tag.  Why did I just not do the tag?  Well believe it or not, I was trying to be nice to the women folk all around reading my blog.  But since you asked for it, here are few of the things I might have done which I feel are so womanly 😛 

  1. I get bored of chess very easily.  I feel, it’s unnecessary to use my brains too much;
  2. Sometimes I’m in this mood where I’m frustrated for no reason and I make a fuss about the most trivial of things;
  3. On some days, just to get back, I irritate my wife by asking her to keep reminding me how much she loves me… every 5 minutes;
  4. And if she’s out of the house, I keep calling her every half an hour to check whether she’s hungry and remind her to keep drinking water;
  5. Sometimes I just hate it when my wife praises her dad;
  6. And sometimes, I am such a pathetic driver.  I don’t give indicators, am not sure of where I really want to go and meander along leisurely on the highway; Once even my car shouted at me to wake up and drive;
  7. I love gossip and I love reality tv;
  8. Sometimes, I don’t get intelligent jokes.  I keep waiting for the punch line… and then people around me start laughing;
  9. I spend 40 dollars for my haircut;
  10. On some days, I just feel so dumb.

Phew.  Now let the brickbats begin.  But before you leave this blog with a promise to never return again, please continue to read.  Whatever I’ve written above is just a silly joke.  It was just that I had read this tag so much and by the time I turned around doing it, almost all the ‘cool’ womanly traits like “I love cooking” and “I love pink shirts” had been taken.  So, instead of making it vanilla plain, I tried making it funny.  If you find this humor sick, please let this post pass, and don’t hold it against me.  Trust me, I do not believe any of the above traits to be strictly womanly (except maybe the one about not getting intelligent jokes! Oh ok, not again, sorry).

And also, I’m not tagging anyone coz. everyone has done it.  Please send me the pink shirts that were promised. Thanks.


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Finally I’m here…

Expect the craziness to continue !

And to start off a new blog, I’m trying not to be ‘Old wine in new bottle’.  (Btw, old wine is good, wonder who said that quote and what did he actually mean)…

Coming back, on this new blog, I’m trying something new 🙂

Blogger Rambo!

Baby for blog

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What is Rondechak?

Lovely morning in Dubai. 7.30 am. Weather is showing some respite. The morning sun isn’t yet blazing. Or maybe it is but I’m in the air conditioned confines of my tinted car. I switch on the radio expecting to listen to some nice music:

Rondechak won Rondechak
Rondechakaaa wanalo gete
Rondechak won Rondechak
Rondechakaaa wanalo gete

Is this what I get? Is this what I deserve? I mean, who writes these lyrics? And who actually sings them? And then they go on…

And we Twist,
We twist
We twist
We twist
And we twist…

Keep twisting buddy, I’m outta here. Actually, you should be twisted out of your brains… and the only other person twisting would be Majrooh Sultanpuri in his grave.

I quickly change the station before I burst an artery or something…

Chika chikaaa chikaa
That’s my chika girl
In the bady that we go in the ben girl
That’s my chika girl

No respite here as well. What is Chika? And what is a Chika girl? And someone please tell me what is that third line that the rapper sings? And that’s not all, somewhere ahead in the song…

Bring it on, Bring it on, Bring it on Jaana…

What is that supposed to mean? Is he inviting her for a Boxing match? Wasn’t this a song meant to patao his girl? Is she a wrestler?

And surprisingly these lyrics have been written by Javed Akhtar.

I guess, I should listen to radio only on Thursday nights after having a few beers. For the mornings, I’d rather stick to the business breakfast.

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So it was proved yet again. Yeah, we always knew it but it feels better to be reassured that our MPs have got nothing better to do than discuss Prime Time TV in the Rajya Sabha. This feels just like watching a bunch of women discuss the dedication of Tulsi to her saas in Kyunki… or the numerous marriages of Prerna over their high tea. The MPs are furious over Sach Ka Samna. I saw this Uncle MP shout in the Rajya Sabha saying that such programmes are destroying our culture. Just think for a moment with your sane mind (and then I promise, as always, we’ll go back to seeking mindless humour in all this, inkeeping with the true spirit of blogging); Just think of the ridiculousness of what they are implying that Speaking the truth will destroy Indian culture. This is to say that this ‘great’ culture of theirs was built on lies… or were they talking about their career in politics? I really like what Satyajit said on his blog and I quote “Common sense in the government it seems is like the Lochness monster. Everyones heard of it…no one’s seen it.”

And back to some senselessness (that’s what I think we’re only good at) if you think about it, there actually is something to be scared about. We know that China is just waiting to put up another factory of whatever catches the fancy of a lot of people; right from Hindu Gods to toys sold in Amsterdam to the various magical weight loss belts sold on TV shopping, everything these days is Made in China. Now, the thought is really scary – What if they start mass producing these chairs with polygraph machines and sell it at dirt cheap prices? Imagine a house full of MPs but nobody’s sitting; Nobody wants to sit on the Chair that otherwise they would die for…

But I’m not worried about them alone. I’m worried, if my wife replaces all our dining table chairs! I mean, how am I gonna answer her regular Friday evening question – Have you had a bath today? Oops, I’m letting out my ‘dirty’ secrets already… But no, seriously think about it. How will a student ever be able to write a good essay on ‘My School’? How will Pakistan get foreign aid by promising to fight Al Qaeda? How will Rakhi bullshit every suitor on her show by looking into his eyes and confessing her ‘undivided’ love for each one of them? More than her, how will the dulhas say “I lurrveee you” to Rakhi with a straight face knowing very well that the lie detector would be going bonkers? How will the US invade the remaining oil producing countries of the world screaming WMD? How will all the men confidently reply “Your eyes” when a woman asks what is it in me that you like the most? How will all the husbands in the world answer their wives perennial question “Am I looking fat in this dress?”

Come to think of it, man human being has gotten this far, thanks to a bunch of lies. Toddlers start learning it right from ‘Johny Johny, Yes Papa; Eating Sugar? No Papa’ beep… beep… beep… and then they never stop. We work our way through school and everytime mom asks ‘Homework kiya?’ we shout a loud ‘Yes’ beep… College is no different when every evening we gather at a friend’s place to ‘study’ beep…. How could we’ve told the truth that we watched porn last night? Or maybe we could say, we were watching an ‘educational video’ and the buzzer might not beep. We then profess our undying love for a girl and bullshit her by singing ‘I will ALWAYS love you’ and the girl bullshits us by pretending to believe our crap. Then at work, the same behavior continues. Just imagine, how will all of us bloggers be able to fill up our daily time-sheets? We don’t have a column for ‘Blogging’ in there… And Interviews, God No! If the lie detector chair’s False alarm would be a giggle, it would literally be Rolling on the Floor Laughing listening to us explain our virtues of honesty and dedication to work.

That gives me an idea – Should I patent this innovation where the chairs come in different ‘False’ alarm tones:
Standard – Beep
Rakhi (Of Karan Arjun fame) – Nahinnnnnn – Keh do yeh jhuth hai
Shatru – Khamosh
Raunchy – Nooooo
Oldie Goldie – Jhuth bole kauwa kaate…
And so on…

Ok now this innovative thinker in me is digging his own grave. But seriously, Truth is the only thing that is not sexy when ‘bare’. And what’s happening in SKS is a striptease of sorts. As we always know, our Culture is against stripping of any kind :-). So for a change, I’m with them on this one. Tell me, aren’t the MPs right in being shit scared? Aren’t you scared as well or is it just me?

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If only…

For my brother in law’s wedding, a week before the wedding, I was choreographing a dance for my mother in law and her 3 sisters (all over 40 ok, over 35 in age and waist). We were practicing till 12 midnight.

The next morning we saw the news – Michael Jackson died.

I do remember telling them – Bhagwan ke liye, beat ko pakdo… (In the Holy God’s name, please go with the beat). If only…

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This is a day before Sakshi went to India. I was trying to put Yuvaan to sleep to get some practice before the real exam… After a few minutes, he runs out of the room and goes to his Mummy. I come out accepting defeat, “He isn’t sleepy!”.

“Sing to him” Sakshi says, so I’m back inside trying again.

I take him to the window and make him see cars below. He seems drowsy so I go in for the kill. I rest his head on my shoulder and think of a song… Can’t think of any so just start singing whatever comes in my mouth…

He says “Pappa gadi bataye”

So I start singing
“Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye…
Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye”

And then, after a pause…

“Lal gadi, pili gadi
Lal gadi, pili gadi

Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye
Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye”

He seems to close his eyes. I’m buoyed by the success so I go ahead

“Ek gadi, do gadi
Teen gadi, char gadi

Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye
Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye”

Now I’m really getting the hang of it and he seems to like the tune (and my soothing voice of course) so I continue…

“Slow gadi, fast gadi
Slow gadi, fast gadi

Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye
Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye”

And it actually works. I take him to the bed and make him lie on the bed but he clings to me… says “Pappa soye”

So I sleep next to him, and he climbs on top of me and snuggles his head in my neck. I think he’s off to sleep! But he lifts his head, eyes half closed says “Pappa… gana gao”

And I go again… “Pappa bataye, Yuvaan so jaaye…” till he’s in dreamland.


Next day, I’m happy and confident that my lullaby will put him off to sleep. I change him into his night suit but he insists that he’ll wear it himself “Yuvaan pehne”. Click here to see how 🙂

I’m all set to put him off to sleep so I tell him “Yuvaan so jaaye” and he says “Pappa gana gao”. “Kaun sa gana” I ask him. He says, “Gadi wala”. Wow, the song is already a hit I think :-). I tap myself on the back and he climbs on top of me and snuggles in.

I begin and am just a minute into crooning the song that he lifts his head up and says “Na na na na”. I think, he loves my voice. So I change track…

“Meri laundry ka ek bill,
Ek Aadhi padhi novel,
Na na na na na
Na na na na na

Ek ladki ka phone number,
Mere kaam…”

He interrupts “Bachana”

So I change track again
“Bachna ae hasino, lo mein aa gaya
Husn ka aashiq, husn ka dushman
Apni ada hai…”

He interrupts again “Eea Eea Oo”

I’m glad he’s learning something in school as well. I change track…

“Old Mcdonald had a farm
Eea Eea Ooo
And on that farm, he had some chicks
Eea Eea Ooo”

I sing this really slowly and softly hoping he’ll sleep listening to it. But he again lifts his head and looks up…

“Pappa eyes coz” (eyes close)

So I close my eyes but continue singing and tapping him and he says

“Pappa gadi wala gana”

So I ask him “Kaun sa gadi wala”

He says “Pappa so jaaye, Gadi bataye…
Yuvaan bataye, pappa so jaaye”

He’s confused and doesn’t exactly remember the lyrics but he sure loves this song :-).

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Waistline Woes!!!

“Mein aur mera wazan
Phool se bhi nazuk badan”

These lines were etched in stone and carved out on my forehead when I was in school. It was a sure shot way to get the girls in my class laughing and showing the smart arse guys that I could laugh on myself which gave them very little advantage in ridiculing me. These lines usually followed with a few jokes about myself like…

You know, when I’ve to go somewhere, I need to check the direction of the wind coz. I can go only in the direction in which the wind is blowing (girls laughing harder…) and I get late to school whenever the wind is in the opposite direction. I’ve to put extra books in my bag to keep me on course (girls holding their bellys and laughing harder…)

I never, in my life thought that a day would come when I’d have to worry about my waist line. I mean, I always worried but the other way round; especially when I went to buy jeans. Those were the days of skin tight jeans and none of the stores would have my size – a cute 26. I then asked my brother (who was in Dubai) to send me a few good jeans (size 26). And he did send me a few good skin tight jeans. Years later, he’d confess that he didn’t find my size in the men’s section so he had bought these from the girls section, rather than disappoint me. Even I found my jeans, unnaturally narrow at the bottom but heck, that was the best I could get.

Into adulthood, everyone told me, not to worry. Once I’m married, I’ll bloat up like a balloon. I got married and hoped for the best… After a few months… nothing happened, so I waited a bit more… After a few more months… still nothing. I was approaching 30 but looked like a 22 year old. Few more years passed but my weight remained 60 and intermittently touched 58 with every bout of throat infection and fever.

Finally, God showed me the way… literally. Just before the month of Ramadan in 2008, my wife went to India, a month before me. This meant, I was free, free from home… free from work (Ramadan timings are upto 2 pm only) and free to pursue my 30 year old dream. Beef up a little. The added attraction was the Goa holiday that was coming up.

For the first time in my life, I was serious; I downloaded training programs, diet plans and what not and formulated a thrice a week heavy training program. I started following my diet and training regime regularly. So regularly, that I even surprised myself. I never missed the mandatory Carb+Protein meal 2 hours before the gym and stuck to my schedule; logged everything. The time at the gym started stretching from the initial 40 minutes to almost 90 minutes.

Happy with results, I went to India, weighing 66 kgs. For the first time in my life, I was this heavy. Though I was way below my target of a lean and muscled body, almost everyone saw a visible difference. Longer hair, filled in cheeks and feet firmly on the ground with my own weight. Though I was nowhere near the six pack abs I’d imagined before beginning my schedule, I was happy, and content.

But alas, my happiness was short lived. My appetite was enlarged, I think my stomach expanded inside with all the food that I ate. I stopped the gym and thought my appetite would also recede but that didn’t happen. I continued eating like a starved refugee. And since I was no longer on a diet plan, I ate whatever I liked. Mutton biryanis, pastries, ice-creams, beer… I thought, that of all the people in the world, I couldn’t have a weight issue. After all,

“Mein aur mera wazan
Phool se bhi nazuk badan”

These were the lines that I made immortal. This couldn’t happen to me.

But my waist wasn’t listening. It continued its outward journey. My stomach, after years of being stuck to my back, seemed to be enjoying its new found freedom and relishing its journey to reach the outside world. 7 months after the Goa trip and my continued zest for eating, my boss finally noticed pointing to my paunch – What is that???

I was shocked. I mean, never did I think that my stomach, who stuck to me for years like an Afghani wife, would reach out and betray me. I was the original ‘lean machine’. The guy who could fold his legs in the most complicated yoga postures with tremendous ease coz. there was no fat on them. The guy whose gym instructor was scared to let him lie on the bench and press barbells; the guy whose diet plan meant indulgence rather than deprivation; the guy whose biceps would fit into a full grip with the tips of their fingers still touching (and still some space in between as well); the guy who could be used in a Science class to show a human’s bone structure; yes, that guy was now a certified uncle with a potbelly and weighed 70 kgs with the weighing scale seemed to add a kg every few weeks.

I never thought I’d never need to write a post about my increasing weight. C’mmon, I used to be ‘the dude’ but it won’t be long before I turn into a ‘daddu’.

I’ve started the two-hundred situps challenge, have promised to cut down on rice (sadly that also means biryani) and am hoping to get back in shape for my brother-in-law’s wedding. Thankfully, it hasn’t been long so the damage seems to be limited. But I’ve certainly understood the saying Be careful what you wish for!’

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