Date a guy who wants to make Fraandship.

Date a guy who sends you a Fraand request. Because he will always want to take you to the nearest Café Coffee Day, while you are busy trying to be a girl who reads, writes, travels, or does all of the above while also perusing your spambox for mails from your exes, and belting a plate of Biryani.

Date a guy you found on facebook. Date a guy who’s never met you otherwise. Because he will always Like your comments. Even if you could only come up with creative variants of “Awesome”. Like “Osama”.

Find a guy who reads every FB post of yours. You’ll know that because he will always be the first one to leave a smiley as a comment.  He’s the one who types “awww” only because he means it. Do you see that weirdo who nearly choked to death when the oregano seasoning went down his wind pipe when he tried laughing? That’s the man. He usually cannot resist laughing, especially when he reads something LOL-worthy.

He’s the guy who always flashes his latest Micromax A116 Canvas HD while waiting at that coffee shop down your street. If you peek at his mug, the cup is empty. Peek again after a couple of hours, and it’s the same cup, because he’s too engrossed already to know that you’ve been waiting for him to leave so you can take his table. He’s just lost among the Likes and the Shares on his FB Newsfeed. Sit down. He might give you a stare, as most guys who spend every waking our poring on Facebook like to be interrupted by a divine apparition of a living breathing woman. Ask him if he likes his new phone.

Buy him another cup of coffee. He’ll love that. That’ll let him sit at the same table for another couple of hours.

Let him know what you really think of the latest “Keep Calm” meme post on his wall. See if he gets the sarcasm on your latest status message. Understand that if he says he understood “Chillaana hai to ‘India, India’ chillaana. ‘Pak Pak’ to murga bhi karta hai”, he’s saying that just to sound cool. Ask him if he likes the “World’s Most Interesting Man” meme or he would like to be the “World’s Most Interesting Man” meme.

It’s really easy to date a guy who has Rahul Dravid’s picture as his user pic. He could just be your friendly neighbourhood Rahul Roy. Or even that easily forgotten Rahul Mahajan, who was your classmate in school. But one thing he’ll always believe is he’s the Rahul who’ll sweep you off your feet with a well-timed, “Mar gaya Rahul”.

Just tag him on a nice FB post for his birthday. Include him in a generic status message that simply reads “Merry Christmas”, and he’ll assume it’s dedicated to him. Share any 9gag post on his wall, and it’ll make his day. Send him a link of the latest post from ‘I Fucking Love Science’ and he’ll love your fucking intelligence. Understand that he knows the difference between FB and life, but he’ll go out of his way to turn his life into a FB newsfeed. And it’ll never be your fault if he does.

Lie to him. He’ll know that you only did it to maintain your FB reputation. It’s not the end of the world. Okay, his world.

Fail him. Because the guy who updates his FB status every hour knows that not every post will be Liked by his 2038 friends. Because a guy who updates his status knows that there’s always the next FB post. That you can always write another status message that’ll get likes. At least 10 likes. That life is meant to at least have one post or two every day that you’ll be forced to delete.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? The guy who posts some celebrity’s post as his userpic knows that you don’t anything like Deepika Padukone, whose picture you may have used as a userpic.

 If you find a guy who wants to make fraandship, keep him close. When you find him up at 2 AM clutching his smartphone so close to his eyes that it starts watering, make him a cup of tea and hold him. You may lose him for a couple of hours but he will always come back to you. He’ll talk as if the farm he built in Farmville 2 is real, because for a while, it always is.

He will propose by tagging you on a post with a picture of a hot air balloon. Or picture of aging rock star, along with his lyrics. Or very casually next time you are online. Yes, his writing will be on your wall.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your brain hasn’t burst and bled out all over your shoulders yet. You will write the story of your lives through FB status messages. You’ll have kids with strange names belonging to strangers you were stalking together on Facebook. He will introduce your children to Mafia Wars and Criminal Case, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and he will read out the latest Y U No meme under his breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a guy who wants to make fraandship because you deserve it. You deserve a guy who can add colour to your dull Facebook wall. If you plan to ignore his Facebook posts later in life, then you’re better off ignoring his friend request. But if you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a guy who reads every post of yours on Facebook. Twice.

Or better yet, date a guy who always has the last LOL.

Too Important to Fail

Dear Tax-payer,

I realise you deserve to know why I seek a bailout from the country for my now bankrupt Social Network company. I understand you feel the pinch when I’ve sought a Rs.5,42,325.25 bailout package from various financial institutions. But my reasons are too many. And too critical to the future of the country’s economy. Let me explain.

Because of my current financial crisis, I haven’t been able to tip the waiter at the local Darshini where I’ve been having my daily plate of Idly-Vada with an extra bowl of Sambar and two Filter Coffees. I know it’s hard for you to imagine this, but it is not a hypothetical scenario, dear Tax-payer. In fact, I’ve only been eating single Idly, and half cup Filter Coffee, at the self-service section of the Darshini, where I stand and eat. It has also helped me avoid the waiter by simply maneuvering into the crowd that’s waiting to collect their orders by the kitchen window. Because of the plummeting tip collections, our man has had to give up on his daily khamba of Old Monk rum, and now settles for a relatively cheaper quarter of Khodays. You do realise that’s a big dip in India’s economy if people were to replace their bottle of Old Monk, one litre pet bottle of Thumbs Up and a full plate of Chicken 65 with just two 90ml glasses of Khodays, a wedge of lime and a bowl of peanuts (not even the Rs. 5 Haldiram’s Masala peanuts, mind you). Good heavens!

And that’s not the only reason why I seek the Rs. 6, 17, 821. 72 bailout. The attentive reader may have noticed that my losses have increased by a full Rs. 75,496 and some change since I began my plea. Well you see, in those few hours, (err, I’m a slow writer, a slower editor, and the slowest thinker in the SEC C category of failed upstarts identified by the Balkampet branch of the LocalTrust Bank), the INR (sounds better than the Indian Rupee, no?) has fallen against the dollar, the Sensex has crashed more often than the fake windows version at the local internet parlour, and petrol prices have temporarily taken an un-Hindu rate of growth with a Rs. 3.14 per litre hike. But we digress.

With all the financial pressures, I’ve given up on my plans of buying Apple’s latest tablet, and instead I’m buying the relatively cheaper ones manufactured by Dr. Tirumalsetti’s Pharma. I’ve stopped buying songs at iTunes, and now only listen to my own tunes. I also made the supreme sacrifice of giving up on Bollywood movies at multiplexes, and instead resort to watching free downloads of movies produced in the Chinatown district of Kolkata. Don’t even get me started on how it would alter the financial fabric of the country if I was to incorporate these changes in my lifestyle in the long-term.

You may now want to know how I managed to lose it all before seeking a Rs. 7, 06, 659. 53 bailout. Well, that’s a fair question. Now let’s start at the very beginning. It all began during those days when the times were better, when people had more money in their pockets, and Orkut was still the most happening technology innovation in town. That is when I decided to make a pioneering foray in the Sports-Entertainment Industry by launching the Indian Book Cricket League. And going by the number of followers I got on the Orkut page, I was convinced that this would be the next financial page turner, and David Fincher would possibly have to buy the movie rights for my autobiography, which was due to release in the holiday season of 2007. Being a bit of an Amay Khurasiya of the Book Cricket world in my playing days, I was as confident as the aforementioned French Cricket legend that it wouldn’t have been too difficult for me to sell the idea to venture capitalists and private equity funds. But then suddenly, I got a legal notice from Cricket Authorities who believed they owned the name Cricket. And another one from another finance company in Mauritius, who believed I was giving the Pakistani Bookies in their employment a bad name, owing to the use of the word Book. And then, after the financial downturn that’s followed ever since, I couldn’t even afford to buy the latest version of MS Office, never mind hiring the services of an accountant, or a lawyer. That's when I decided to wind up operations, and have been surviving on the LIKES of fans on my Facebook page.

I could still go into financial details, but then I strongly believe that while a clever man does solve a problem, it takes a wise one to avoid it. So appealing to your good sense and wisdom, dear Tax-payer, let’s just agree to help me out with my finances with a Rs. 8, 97, 231. 25 bailout and forget this entire episode.

Yours Sincerely,
Failed Social Network Expert, and currently a consultant to owners of pages and communities on Facebook.

God Tweets

On the 94,612,288,345,980th day, I created a twitter account. And thought it was good

What all do I need to do just to boost the number of followers. #only176200281followerssofar

Don’t blame me for your problems. It takes millions of years to create fossils. #Petrolcrisis

Sharon Osborne. It wasn’t your dad who created Canni-bus. Say it right!

Now for my favourite reality show – Life. #MUHAHAHA

I’m bored of tweeting. Let’s try creating a facebook account now.

I’m getting bored here. Lets create some new religions.

Hey. You think all I do is judge you people down there. I have a life!

Stop writing so many books in my name. I’m losing count. #Religions

When he came up with relativity, Einstien was playing dice – God.

Nietzsche is dead – God.

Damn it! I’m not the one batting at Eden Gardens! And no, I’m much taller than 5’4”.

What gave you the impression that I’d like to be woken up by bad singing on Sunday mornings?

Wall Street Responds

The man in Wall Street will never take the streets in protest of all the demonstrations witnessed just outside his work place. What he may take however is your job. Here's a mail doing the rounds, written by a Wall Streeter who is clearly agitated by what he's seen -

We are Wall Street. It’s our job to make money. Whether it’s a commodity, stock, bond, or some hypothetical piece of fake paper, it doesn’t matter. We would trade baseball cards if it were profitable. I didn’t hear America complaining when the market was roaring to 14,000 and everyone’s 401k doubled every 3 years. Just like gambling, its not a problem until you lose. I’ve never heard of anyone going to Gamblers Anonymous because they won too much in Vegas.

Well now the market crapped out, & even though it has come back somewhat, the government and the average Joes are still looking for a scapegoat. God knows there has to be one for everything. Well, here we are.

Go ahead and continue to take us down, but you’re only going to hurt yourselves. What’s going to happen when we can’t find jobs on the Street anymore? Guess what: We’re going to take yours. We get up at 5am & work till 10pm or later. We’re used to not getting up to pee when we have a position. We don’t take an hour or more for a lunch break. We don’t demand a union. We don’t retire at 50 with a pension. We eat what we kill, and when the only thing left to eat is on your dinner plates, we’ll eat that.

For years teachers and other unionized labor have had us fooled. We were too busy working to notice. Do you really think that we are incapable of teaching 3rd graders and doing landscaping? We’re going to take your cushy jobs with tenure and 4 months off a year and whine just like you that we are so-o-o-o underpaid for building the youth of America. Say goodbye to your overtime and double time and a half. I’ll be hitting grounders to the high school baseball team for $5k extra a summer, thank you very much.

So now that we’re going to be making $85k a year without upside, Joe Mainstreet is going to have his revenge, right? Wrong! Guess what: we’re going to stop buying the new 80k car, we aren’t going to leave the 35 percent tip at our business dinners anymore. No more free rides on our backs. We’re going to landscape our own back yards, wash our cars with a garden hose in our driveways. Our money was your money. You spent it. When our money dries up, so does yours.

The difference is, you lived off of it, we rejoiced in it. The Obama administration and the Democratic National Committee might get their way and knock us off the top of the pyramid, but it’s really going to hurt like hell for them when our fat a**es land directly on the middle class of America and knock them to the bottom.

We aren’t dinosaurs. We are smarter and more vicious than that, and we are going to survive. The question is, now that Obama & his administration are making Joe Mainstreet our food supply…will he? and will they?

Why I Stopped Tweeting

Best expressed in a tune made famous by the man who never grew up -

It's close to midnight, 140 characters lurking on your screen
Under the moonlight, you see a tweet that almost makes you scream
You want to tweet but another tweet appears before you make it
You start to retweet, as horror looks you right between the eyes
You're paralyzed

'Cause this is Twitter, Twitter site
And no one's gonna save you from the Twit about strike
You know its Twitter, Twitter site
You're losing a good life inside the killer Twitter site

You follow dumb blonds, and geeks who don’t really have a life
You slowly realise, that tweeting won’t really get you a wife,
You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination,
Back on your screen, more tweets upload and add to grime
You're out of time

'Cause this is Twitter, Twitter site
And no one's gonna save you from the Twit about strike
You know its Twitter, Twitter site
You're losing a good life inside the killer Twitter site

Resignation letter in Rhyme

Found this online. And I must say, the employers of this creative employee must be very proud of themselves if they could inspire an employee to write this:

The name is good, the brand is big,
But the work I do is that of a pig.
The work or the brand; what is my way?
I don’t know if I should stay.

To work, they have set their own way,
Nobody will care to hear what I say,
My will be NULL, they wont change their way,
I don’t know if I should stay.

The project is in a critical stage
But to do good work, this is the age
This dilemma is killing me day by day
I don’t know if I should stay.

The money is good, the place is great,
But the development is at a very small rate,
Should I go for the work, or wait for pay,
I don’t know if I should stay!

The managers don’t know what they talk,
The team doesn’t know where they walk,
That’s a bad situation, what say?
I don’t know if I should stay.

I can go to any other place,
But what if I get the same disgrace,
I can’t keep switching day by day,
I don’t know if I should stay.

The negatives are more, the positives are less
Then why have this unnecessary mess,
No more will I walk their way,
It’s all done, I won’t stay.

Open Letter to Closed Minds

Abey Oye!

We’re from Hyderabad, or the city that’s as old as the Vindhyas. We’ve gone to all cities looking for jobs, but we simply come back to Hyderbad. Or Secunderabad. Or if we can’t deal with the traffic at the twin cities, we move to Cyberabad. Our families think it’s insane for us to let go of the opportunity of working in Delhi, Bombay, or even single-male conducive cities like Bangalore, but still choose to live with them. But we cant help but continue living in Hyderabad and laugh at everything else. Let me explain.

We Hyderabadis speak any language with an accent borrowed from the Kakatiyas, the Bahmanis, the Shahis, the Mughals, the Nizams, the English, the Socialists, the Call-Centre trainers and everyone else who has cared to enjoy our hospitality. And with it, comes an attitude of “taking light” of any situation. Which is possibly why we are always able to see the lighter side of life. It’s true. We believe if you ever have a bone to pick with a Hyderabadi, it’s possibly from the massive plate of Chicken Biryani that you’ve shared with him.

Given our inherited sense of humour, we’re more than thrilled at laughing at a joke, even the poorest ones without discrimination. One fine day, we read this hilarious piece written by a Madrasan in Delhi. It’s got some really funny lines like this one –
“I am very sad to report that your reputation of being an ignorant, chauvinistic oaf with the intelligence levels of an autistic 3 year old on crack precedes you and it hurts me even more to admit to this rather accurate description.”

After reading this, we gleefully LIKEd it and SHAREd it with friends on Facebook. But on reading this piece from a half-Madrasan in Delhi, we realised it was not all hunky-dory. But I must say even this piece had its share of wit in response to what the Madrasan had to say. Here’s what the lady had to say –
“It seems nigh impossible to fall that low. For every Daalli boy living in Defence Callony there is a Medraus boy getting up ‘yearly in the maarning’. Why do we as a people deride our own regional accents while swooning over a French accent? Are you ashamed of your skin, accent or your food habits? You’re weighed down by your colonial hangover, lady.”

Just as we were going to share this piece, we received another link worth its laughs from an offended Delhi-ite who introduced himself by Maa-Behning all the clichés from the two aforementioned blogs –
“I’m a Delhi ‘Boy’. And I’m not a rapist. Or an oppressor of women. I can drive pretty well, and yes, I do appreciate my Rajma Chawal… preferably with sweetened curd. But I’m weird like that. Whenever I talk to someone south of the Vindhyas (This is a stretch… I don’t even know where the damn mountains are on a map), I’m expected to conform to stuff “we people do in the North”. From what I’m given to understand, there’s apparently a large conspiracy afoot to find people ugly, make fun of their cultural/religious leanings and drive my SUV over people on pavements.
And you know, I resent this. Most of all because I can’t afford an SUV right now.”

We thought we were done with this Capital Punishment, but just then came yet another ‘Banda’ with capital ideas. Here’s what he says –
“What is wrong in driving SUV? U know, there is four month waiting for Fortuner. It is great car – even better than my old Civic. Its not for what you think yaar, not for pataoing girls n all, im a car freak. I have need for speed. And what abt this you say Punjab male ego? No man.. we are very chilled people yaar. My cousin brother wife wears bikini n all when she go abroad. My dadaji dadiji are cool with it. We respect women too much. For Rakhi, I gave my sis 25 grand – money is for spending only, yaar.”

Just as we were thinking about the four really funny blogs, we came across this intelligent Ctrl C + Ctrl V rendition –
“I am very sad to report that your reputation of being an ignorant,chauvinistic accent-confused oaf with the intelligence levels of an autistic 3 year old on crack leer of a movie villain to anyone with slightly fair skin precedes you and it hurts me even more to admit to this rather accurate description.”

So Dear Madrasan in Delhi, Quarter-Madrasan, Delhi Boy, Drunk-on-a-quarter-of-scotch-and-SUV-driving-Punjabi-Frnd-frm-Gudgaon, and everyone else from in and around the Vindhyas, we can’t help but pray that there are more such posts. We’ll be more than happy to laugh at anyone’s expense, even our own. And of course, we’ll gladly share all your jokes yaar. We’ll also LIKE and SHARE on Facebook. And we’ll also copy the link on to an email and forward it to mom-dad yaar. Even your poorest jokes of India, my Ctrl C + Ctrl V friend from Bangalore. Looking forward to more such posts.

South Indian boy from Hyderabad.

Letter from Santa

Dear Mr. Singh,
1 January, 2001

I don’t think you remember me. I mean, I’d have to take you 10 years back, to a mental image of what you were then – a 17-year old. Yes, it’s true. Let me explain.

You remember being introduced to the concept of internet? And the electronic mail too? And how it drove your imagination (and mine too) wild? And how you linked your understanding of the internet to the concept of the multiverse? So you came up with this theory that the internet is possibly the only mode of communicating with a parallel universe. And possibly with the future too. So to find out for yourself, you send yourself a mail. And address it to yourself 10 years from now? Well, here I am.

As you’d remember, I am very curious to find out a lot about how the next 10 years turn out for you. And I know you understand, so you will refrain from sharing any information that can alter the shape of the space-time fabric. But still, it is this curiosity that has driven me so far. And you surely understand that too.

Okay, lets strike a deal here. I ask you only three questions. And those are related what has happened over the last three-four days. Here we go.

Firstly, I’m very impressed by what’s happening on the world wide web. So would I have property in this world wide web which would only be dedicated to me. As in if people land on this web page, all they’ll ever find is everything about me?

Secondly, would I ever get to drive a McLaren F1 in the next 10 years?

Lastly, will I be working somewhere cool, where I will be encouraged to work on the internet?

Looking forward to hear from you.

Yours truly,
Santosh.


Dear Santosh,
1 January, 2011

Of course I remember. How could I forget that wild idea. Well, I know you waited for a couple of days, hoping against hope, reason and logic for a reply. And I know I’m replying to your mail 10 years too late. But the reason I reply to this mail is because I still believe. In your idea. Your ability. And your innocence. Yes, that’s true. It was easily your first failure, after which you start curbing your ideas on the pretext of being realistic. When I think about it, I wonder which was a bigger failure, your silly experiment, or your silly outlook towards life after the outcome of that experiment. I don’t believe in a parallel universe anymore, and I cannot imagine anything that will help me connect to you, a memory of what I was 10 years back. But I write to you, and hope it reaches you in time. If only to encourage you to take the other path.

You don’t realise the strength of your first question. You asked me this question and decided to wait for an answer. And when you don’t see one in the next two days, you completely forget about it. Till you remember this freak incident 10 years later. And then unearth this mail from your mailbox (it’s amazing who you maintain a mail account with that childish name even 10 years later). Another chap asks himself the very same question, comes with an answer for himself, develops his idea, and gets a million dollars for it. Yes, you will own a property on the web, and if anyone lands on your page, they’ll only have access to your thoughts. But let me be honest. That’s really not saying much. And no, before you go into any of your romantic notions, ‘You’ve Got Mail’ is a ridiculous movie.

I wonder why you’d ask me the second question. And then I remembered. Let me put my gyan cap on and tell you, there’s more to life than what NFS 2 can teach you. No you won’t drive a McLaren F1. Not if you continue playing NFS 2 for countless hours, unless you can think of a radical idea for NFS 3 (Yes. For your information, NFS 2 was never really the best game ever. In fact it isn’t even the best NFS game ever.)

Now coming to your last question. Yes, your job will require your working on the internet all the time. I dare say, you’ll be writing emails for the rest of your life, and you’ll even make a job of it. Yes, not to forget, what you have learnt at that stage of your life (which also includes MS office and MS excel) is all the education you’ll need for the rest of your life.

When I think about it, I’ll say the dark ages of your life will begin on the day you decide to grow up, when you get rid yourself of the last figment of your imagination. And it will possibly end on the day when you entertain a childlike notion once again, realizing that it’s completely alright for an adult to start thinking like a child.

May this mail reach you in another world, another universe possibly, and in the words of a great poet – may you stay, forever young.

Regards,
Santosh ‘Santa’ Singh.

Thank you for the music.

Music expresses that which can not be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. Nobody described music better than Victor Hugo. And since I cannot write anything as profound to describe any of the albums below, I'll keep it down to one sentence each. The rules of this Facebook Tag are 15 minutes (no more) to name your 15 favourite albums. Here goes:

The Beatles – Abbey Road

Their last album, which begins with Come Together. How apt.

Pink Floyd – Dark Side of the Moon

Cannot listen to just one track from this album and leave the rest.

Led Zeppelin IV

Clearly helped the band to be a rock, and not roll.

Pearl Jam – Ten

Have had the discography on me for half a decade, but I've never gone beyond their first album

Prodigy – Fat of the Land

90s, during my teen years, I had to love a band that came up with Smack my bitch up, even though I didn’t know what that really meant.

Kasabian – Kasabian

In an age when MTV plays anything but music, this album is the most definitive IV shot in music’s arm.

Massive Attack – Mezzanine

The first time I heard it in ‘07, I took the plunge, and I’m still immersed in it.

Bob Dylan 30th anniversary concert

When Tracy Chapman pays tribute to Dylan’s village folk days, and Johnny Cash and June Carter relate his Country leanings, while Clapton covers his experiments with Blues, you Don’t Think Twice.

AC/DC - Back in Black

When one of the loudest albums of all time features a number called Rock And Roll Ain't Noise Pollution, you have to admire this 'metal' band and their attempt at irony.

Metallica – Black

Many critics have blasted this album saying it was meant for losers. Boy, am I glad I was one.

U2 – Joshua Tree

If there’s one album that defines what really drove the band, it’s this one. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…

RATM – Battle of Los Angeles

When you want to flash your digitus impudicus to the world, this is the album you play.

Nirvana – Never Mind

Funnily, my introduction to rock music was Come as you are. And here I am.

Simon & Garfunkel – Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me. Need I say more?

Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge Over Troubled Water

When you're down and out, When you're on the street, When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you
This album still has that kind of an effect on me.

Writings on the Wall

Yes, Facebook can be fun. And since we never have the pleasure of enjoying comments on the blog, we thought of writing an entry out of comments from FB. Here's introducing the participants from what started as a FB Kavvi Sammelan and eventually turned into a hip-hop free-for-all.

Me: Writing a status message is but a pastime,
But now I struggle to get them to rhyme,
To get over writer's block,
As prescribed by the doc,
And get back to my writing prime.

Priyanka: The try was worth a watch i say
But puns i love i would daresay
Till the time u have more puns to spare
Ill hide my happy comments somewhere!

Me: Hide your comments, for what joy?
When they are so awesome, oh boy!!
Writing a pun,
May be fun,
But this is what I'm starting to enjoy! :)

Navin: Writing a rhyme
Is a bit like consuming a bit of thyme
Cathartic and therapeautic,
As opposed to getting high on an unknown narcotic,
Go on, make Ogden swell with joy,
...Keep the rhymes apolitical, unlike Ms. Roy !

Me: You are one quizzing freak,
It even shows in your poetic streak,
Why wake up poor ol' Nash,
for this rhyming mishmash?
...So lets not invite miss roy,
and keep it simpler, my boy!

Navin: Good ol' Nash wouldnt mind being pestered
Esp. when we unleash poetic prowess so unfettered,
Yeah, we are all scared of Ms. Roy,
After all sedition is no boy's toy,
This rhyme is a little simpler I hope,
...With verbal diarrhoea, daily I cope :)

Me: Is this rhyme much simpler, I'm not so sure,
Your references still demand a guided tour,
Not for me an Ogden, or miss Roy,
not even a Bradman, or Van Nistleroy,
I like natural references, like the wind, the sun, or even hay,
...Because they create an image in your mind, what say?

KD: when in trouble to make me sound,
dont let the worries let your world go round,
just get some xxx and then watch some,
and soon enough the poetry will cum!!!!

Me: And here come KD, with always a lot to say,
but never for conventions, he always has his way,
He sure has his references, just as his thoughts go,
But boy, he has talent, when it comes to innuendo.

Navin: This rhyme's taking new turn, me thinkee,
KD's turned it up a notch with da kinkee,
Yo, dis house is rockin'
50 cent's soul just possessed me, not jokin',
Yo Sudhir bro, you made dis shit viral,
...Who's gonna go next, Admiral??

Me: This looks like the job of KD,
with Priyanka, the only lady,
with Navin, our quizzing freak,
and this dawg, it's quite a clique.

The world according to Google

Here's my version of the dictionary, which one Mr. Rich was referring to in the New Yorker.

Yahoo: It's a reality check, especially when you take gmail for granted.

Ask: Seriously? Do you even need to?

Wikipedia: It's what googlers(employees and fans alike) fill up when they feel charitable.

Cricinfo: Is what Indians read, when they're not on Google.

Internet: err...google? Spot the difference.

www: Should be followed by google.com

Microsoft: The world's biggest jokebook.

iPhone: That's youtube and gmail in your pocket.

Facebook: Nice interface, to discuss your favourite youtube video, or your blogger post.

Money: Is what we'll gladly share with you. Read terms & conditions for Google AdSense

Bing: Yea, right!

Monopoly: It's what you are accused of, if you are the only entity doing something right.

Information: A word that will soon be replaced by Google in all dictionaries.

Charity: Refer to Wikipedia.

Environment: Is what will be saved if you stop reading all the crap that is published, and read everything from google instead.

Privacy: Is about the only thing you'll get if you ignore google.

Chill: Is what you should try doing if you don't like what you are reading(which BTW is on blogger)

Victim: You are. We are. Who isn't? Welcome to the machine(Which is a nice song by Pink Floyd. Don't forget to youtube it, and google the lyrics).

God: A manifestation of everything google cant give you. Privacy included.

Rajnikant: A superset of God. And google.

Ode to nice guys...and girls.

I'd read this 4 years back, and have been looking for this ever since. It was definitely written by one intellectual whore from Wharton. And ever since he published it for the Wharton Undergradute Journal in 2003 (as far as my source suggests), it became a clarion call for all those men who've been suckers for intimacy. But boy, do we love it and keep quoting it. Here is how it reads.

"This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming."

Self pity was never so bad. Really. At least if you could express it the way this chap did. And while every guy raved it, four women decided to work on a counter-argument to this piece. And this was their response.

This is a tribute to the nice girls. These are the girls who are safe. The girls whom guys who have girlfriends are allowed to hang out with because they’re not viewed as a threat. These are the girls who dress respectably . . . they don’t go and get “skank clothes” and parade themselves around, catching the attention of every drooling, testosterone-filled boy on earth. These are the girls who are okay with going to chick-fil-a on a date, hanging out, watching a movie, playing a game, or doing some other low-cost, high-fun form of entertainment. Because after all, it’s really about the quality time that they spend with the guy and not the amount of money that is flowing from his pockets in order to please her every whim and desire (or so he thinks) during the date.

This is in honor of the girls who take the time to ask their guy friends “how’s life?” and to listen carefully when the answer is given. The girls who go out of their way to make cookies or cheer up male friends in distress. Yeah, we know “men are from Mars” and “women are from Venus,” but a simple “thank you” is pretty darn universal.

This goes out to the girls who must sit complacently while their guy friends discuss the “hotness” of the girl at the next table over. They watch as these guys date or lust over each and every self-centered, trashy, insecure, flirtatious, and flighty girl they come into contact with.

When asked, most guys say they would like to date a nice girl. However, when faced with such an opportunity, they claim that “I love her . . .like a little sister” or “there are no such things as nice girls. They’re all evil.” These guys continue to complain about how all girls are “manipulative” and “gossipy” and wonder why in the world they all go to the bathroom at the same time.

But, we must confess, there are guys out there who realize the value of their nice friends who are girls. These are the guys who should be praised for their willingness to go with the flow, hang out, and chill. These guys, however, fail to consider these nice girls as anything more than friends or to step up to the plate and consider them for a Saturday night date or the upcoming dance even though they possess all the qualities that guys claim they are looking for. But, a note to the nice girls. Eventually all guys will (or at least should) realize that they don’t want to have a relationship with a girl who wants all of their money and who will only date them until a guy who is better or more enhancing for her social status comes along. So, until those guys realize what is right in front of them, a word of encouragement to the nice girls. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of being treated like a doormat. In all honesty, you are valuable. Clearly, you possess qualities that cause your guy friends to want to hang out with you. The world needs your encouragement, your willingness to take part in spontaneous activities, your ability to continue to enjoy life even though you watch as countless nasty, malicious female sirens blind the nice guys with their alluring ways. For all of the random, frustrating, and seemingly non-sensical things you tolerate, don’t lose hope. Nice guys do exist and will someday realize that nice girls, who are not evil, exist as well. Fear not, your day will come. And perhaps your prince will too.

err......hummm......I guess it's not such a great feeling to be treated like a foot stool. Maybe we'll never know the feeling. Maybe we need to talk about it. Speaking of which, what are you doing this weekend?

If they pay peanuts, they need monkeys.

Just read this little story online.

Inside the cage, hang a banana on a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.

After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result - all the other monkeys are sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.

Now, put away the cold water. Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him.

After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be assaulted.

Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace a third original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked.

Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating of the newest monkey.

After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey ever again approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not? Because as far as they know that's the way it's always been done round here.

And that, my friends, is how company policies are made.

My daily bowl of Pai-sm

Yea, my new hobby is soon becoming an addiction of sorts. So much so that I've limited my thoughts to 140 characters.

Here are some of my favourite FB status messages:


An awesome creative exercise for budding copywriters - writing a new FB status everyday.

Always have a long and controversial status message. Only the jobless will respond.

Sudhir Pai is a semi-machine gun that resembles an MP5, of Norwegian Spirit, on its way to NY City! Just SHOOT ME!

Said Perf, "I keep waiting and waiting, and then if I still don't find a reply for my message,I know it's you".

I just failed miserably in the "How well do you know Sudhir Pai?" quiz.

Everything is fair in love and 'mafia wars'.

" Is there a face-Booker prize for the best status message?", asks VJ.

Bar Stool Economics

Just read this and found it pretty cool. Since it was on Taxes, I thought you should be dying to read this one, in all 'certaininty'.

Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten
comes to $100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go
something like this:

The first four men (The poorest) would pay nothing.

The fifth would pay $1.

The sixth would pay $3.

The seventh would pay $7.

The eighth would pay $12.

The ninth would pay $18.

The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.

So, that's what they decided to do.

The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the
arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them a curve. "Since you are all
such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily
beer by $20." Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.

The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the
first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free.

But what about the other six men - the paying customers? How could they
divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his 'fair share?' They
realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from
everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up
being paid to drink his beer. So, the bar owner suggested that it would be
fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded
to work out the amounts each should pay.

And so:

The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).

The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings).

The seventh now pay $5 instead of $7 (28%savings).

The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).

The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).

The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).

Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to
drink for free. But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare
their savings.

"I only got a dollar out of the $20,"declared the sixth man. He pointed to
the tenth man," but he got $10!" "Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth
man. "I only saved a dollar, too It's unfair that he got ten times more than
I!" "That's true!!" shouted the seventh man. "Why should he get $10 back
when I got only two? The wealthy get all the breaks!" "Wait a minute,"
yelled the first four men in unison. "We didn't get anything at all. The
system exploits the poor!"

The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.

The next night the tenth man didn't show up for drinks, so the nine sat down
and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they
discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of
them for even half of the bill!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, journalists and college professors, is how
our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most
benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being
wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start
drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.

Thanks Dr. David R. Kamerschen

25 wierd ramblings

The other day a friend complained that this blog spoke very little about me. That's a first. There's a tag i got on FB. Here it is :

1. I recently discovered the true meaning of my first name in a book, which is “someone who’s considerate”. I’ll say as much about myself.
2. Only 5 out of the 25 I’ve tagged call me Sudhir.
3. Was madly in love with music. Our love-hate relationship has survived over 7 years.
4. I love reading. Anything that comes my way.
5. Love talking about movies, comics, graphic novels, cricket, history, travel, err…women (still trying to figure this one)!
6. I love writing, do it for myself.
7. The best pieces I’ve written are letters and notes to friends.
8. I love food. I love culture. I love immersing in both.
9. I was born non-vegetarian. Now a vegetarian by choice.
10. I hate the idea of religion. I love the idea of spirituality.
11. I love my Independence.
12. My ideas on politics are my own.
13. My earliest memory as a kid is sitting on the floor with my Ferarri GTB and Dad’s Atlas(some 1960s edition). And then visiting a new country every day. From Ceylon, to Siam, to Singapore, to Hong Kong, to LA, to NY, to London, to Venice, to Cairo, to Dubai, and then back to Bombay.
14. I love sitting with my clip-board, pen and paper, and then think.
15. I hate my hair; I’d rather shave it off.
16. I love Perfumes. Davidoff Echo is a must!
17. I love dreaming. As an engineering student, I’d dreamt of advertising and of becoming a freelance writer. As a copywriter, and after a stint of freelance writing, I continue to dream.
18. I enjoy my space. I grant people their space and expect those people to do the same to me.
19. I have an obsession for organizing the folders on my system.
20. Ever since I’ve stayed away from home, I’ve valued friendship. And I must say I’ve been very fortunate to tag 25 people for this post.
21. Staying in touch with the people who mean the most to you should never be an obligation. It is a pleasure, which should be savoured.
22. I think between the best of friends, silence communicates more than words do.
23. Quizzing is a passion. It continues to open my eyes.
24. I want to master writing, in Hindi and Urdu.
25. I’ve been struggling to write a song. Poetry seems simpler.

Change we can believe in!

Yes we can!

I Got Tagged!

Kida tagged me the other day, and it's only the second time I've got tagged. Jayshree tagged me once and I didn't know how it worked then. So here goes.



The tag:

Two questions in each category answer them and then tag your friends from the blog-o-sphere. Leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been tagged and you are all set.
Then:

Your oldest memories

1. Falling of the bed while trying to pull off a stunt with the tricycle on the bed
( if you wondering how I've turned out like this, i fell on my head!)

2. Naming my kid sister even before she was born.

3. Driving around the world in my little blue Ferrari and dad's Atlas.

4. Playing at the Matunga Gymkhana with two of my cousins, pinky and jyo.

5. Winning a story telling competition at SIES Kindergarten.

6. Moving to Chembur, Mumbai.

7. Singing "Part-time Lover" and "Papa Don't Preach" which was played in our school bus at Fatima High School. Without understanding the lyrics, of course!

8. A Trip to the Andamans.

9. Moving to Hyderabad.

10. Losing my way after I failed to find a zebra crossing in Hyderabad.

11. My first kiss ( as an 7 year old, that ought to be special ;))

12. Playing battleships at the under-construction swimming pool at Divya Shakti Apartments.

13. Building a Robot using Lego bricks along with Ramanan and Parikshit, after being highly inspired by Force Five.

14. Winning my first quiz with Ramanan.

15. Being gifted MJ's "Dangerous" after standing 3rd in class.

16. Watching Jurassic Park at Sangeet.

17. Singing Christmas Carols for His Excellency Krishna Kanth, the Governor of AP at Raj Bhavan .

18. Being gifted a red rose by my crush for valentines day.

19. My visits to Thallasery, Kerala.

19. Refusing to learn singing because only girls went for singing classes.

20. Playing a game of Basketball against YMCA and nearly getting murdered.

21. Whacking the ball out of the ground in a game against United Avenue.

22. Being gifted a fountain pen by my Math teacher for scoring a 100% in an exam.

23. Buying my first pair of Nike.

What were you doing ten years ago?

November 1998, the start of a few very forgettable years,...errr! I cant seem to remember!

Now:

Your first thought in the morning:

Damnit!! What was my dream again??

If you build a time capsule what would it contain?


A sign which reads "All those of you who enter here, abandon all hope!"

Will Be:

This year…

I intend to pursue all my passions pro-actively. Those include lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, and sitting at my cubicle and staring at the glass panel in front of me. I'm still optimistic about shedding 5 kilos off my body before the year ends, because the label of obesity is too heavy for my shoulders. I'm finally going to enter the Guinness book of world records for the number of times I utter "basically" and "chill! chill!" in a conversation.

What do you see yourself doing 14 years from now?

I'll still be in Advertising. I'll still be working on my first book, my first play, my first film, my first graphic novel and the likes. Basically, I'll still be 21. After all, some things will never change. For everything else, there is Mastercard.

I tag:



Precocious Perf ( the one who introduced me to blogging )

Kiddo

Sam,The Goddess ( My first blog-friend )

Jayashree ( The first blogger to tag me )

Alokish & Alole ( two people who have been, in recent months, subjected to both, my blog and I. And also all the typo's ( oops! i meant typos) in my blog. )

The writing's on the Wall Street

These are some comics my uncle found in a forward. Really cool!

The Orkut Song

This song is dedicated to all the despo "Orkuttans" who can never get enough of all the "Orkutties" around. One truly needs to understand the psyche of vela Orkuttans who spend all day on orkut, surfing across seas of ennui, in pursuit of "Making Frend-Ship", a ship of Titanic proportions, which would take them to newer destinations and grant them access to more "orkutty" profiles. Even if all the orkutty profiles sport a Katrina Kaif pic, the thrills that comes with "Making Frndship" with one is nothing short of making love to the bollywood diva herself. Here's what an orkuttan would sing after finding some success at making frndship.
PS: sung in the tune of the titanic song...

Every time in my scrapbook
I see you. I scrap you.
That is how I know you go on.
Far across my scrapbook
And testimonials between us
You have come to show your, as “single”.
Near, far, wherever you are,
I believe that we'll make frndship go on
Once more you logged on
And you're here in my scrap book
And my friends list will go on and on
Testimonials can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime
And never let go till we're friends
Love was when I saw your userpic
One true time I hold to
In my life I’ll surely be your fan
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that we'll make frendship go on
Once more you logged on
And you're here in my scrap book
And my friends list will go on and on

You're here, there's so much I fear,
And I know that you will know I checked you out
We'll stay forever this way
You are safe in my friends list
And my friends list will go on....

PS: This may not rhyme, but this is the true!
:D *the orbit white smiley*