Hallo Frands! Myself da Punjabi.

Hair is something they never taught you in Iskool.


A is for Aiscreame

B is for Backside, and it has nothing to do with your butt. It is an instruction to go to the rear of a building, or block, or shop or whatever.

C is for Cloney and its not a process for replicating sheep, nor is its first name George. It is merely an area where people live e.g. 'Defence Cloney'.

D is for Dally, the Capital Yaar!

E is for Expanditure, the spending of money.

F is for Frands, who hang out at da Gudgaon.

G is for Gaddi, and the way a Punjabi can pilot his gaddi puts any F1 driver to shame. And it is also his license to get da kuddi.

H is for 'Haal', and if you ask Aamir 'Ki haal?', he says 'All iz Well'.

I is for Intjaar, and to know more about it see P.

J is for Jiyoo, Long live da Punjabi. And 'Jugaad', something da punjabi cannot live without.

K is for Khanna, Khurana, etc, the Punjabi equivalent of the Joneses
(e.g.'Keeping up with the Khuranas ji')

L is for Loin, the king of the jungle

M is for 'Mrooti', the car that an entire generation of Punjabis were in love with.

N is for 'No Problem Ji.' Because you can always go back to H, ji.

O is for Oye, which can be surprise (Oyye!), a greeting (Oyy!), anger (OYY!) or pain (Oy oy oy...).

P is for Punj Mint, and no matter how near (1 km) or far(100 km) a Punjabi is from you he always says he'll reach you in punj mint (5 minutes...).

Q is for Queue, a word completely untranslatable into Punjabi - does not exist in the culture.

R is for Riks, and a Punjabi is always prepared to take one (risk), even if the odds are against him.

S is for Sweetie, Simmi and Summi, and all the soni kuddi, to impress whom men buy half the cars in Delhi.

T is for the official bird of Punjab : Tandoori Chickun.

U is for when you lose your sax appeal and become 'Uncul-ji'

V is for VIP phone numbers @ Rs 15 lakh and counting.

W is for Waat, as in 'Waat Nansense?'

X is for the many X-rated words that flow freely in Punjabi conversations.

Y is for 'You nonsanse', when anger replaces vocabulary in a shouting match.

Z is for Zindgi which every Punjabi knows how to live to the fullest.

Love All

Talk of a consistent scoreline! Well, I guess some things choose not to change that fast. Or at least they seem to respect this day of the year, with only one exception. Let me explain. I've been using Feb 14th as a frame of reference, and a review time for the years ahead. And yet, I'm always at the safest position, that of making a fresh start. Probably that, or just that I've been so madly in love with beginnings. So much so that my realtionships(???) of the lack thereof are no more than fresh beginnings. So am I happy? I guess so. Just as anyone is at the prospect of a fresh beginning. ;)

So here's to you who was first love, till I decided to grow up. And to you, who knew the best way to end a relationship that just started. To you, who "didn't like the way our friendship was heading". Or you, who thought "we were just friends". To you, who'd do nothing to "lose a friend". And to you, who'd marry the ex anyway. And also to you, who thought I was too nice a guy to be a rebound. Happy Valentine's Day!

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

Why I don't write about politics?

I've never written anything on politics, because being 'politically correct' is second on my list of favourite oxymorons, following 'platonic relationship' and followed by 'happily married', 'working lunch', 'bad sport', 'soft porn', 'bad sex' and 'personal blog'. Now that I've used all the interesting key words, I'll know if my statscounter really works.

You have my Word

This is a result of my continuing battle with word processors. All through collage, I suffered a false sense of security that I was well looked after. Its only after my first stint in the press that this realization had dawned upon me. I had to get my ax right, or my dreams of writing adds would reach a dead end.

Then began the long battle one of my short comings. Of being vary dependant on spellcheck on MS Word. And by the looks of it, my efforts have not gone in vein. This effort, for instance, was typed while completely overlooking what MS Word had to say, about my spelling; or even my grammar. And you could'n spot one period misplaced, could you?

Human 1 : Word Processor 0

Truly Plural

Apologies for the tongue-in-cheek twister. Read this recently, and loved it. Check it out:

We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,
Then shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren.
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!

Let's face it - English is a crazy language.
There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger;
neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren't invented in England ..
We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes,
we find that quicksand can work slowly,
boxing rings are square,

and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing,
grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend.
If you have a bunch of odds and ends
and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?
If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English
should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.

In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?
We ship by truck but send cargo by ship.
We have noses that run and feet that smell.
We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway.
And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same,
while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language
in which your house can burn up as it burns
down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out,
and in which an alarm goes off by going on.

And, in closing, if Father is Pop, how come Mother's not Mop?

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

I suddenly remembered the poem by Keats. And I remember when I first read it as a teenager, there was very little that I could understand. I thought it's a good time to revisit it 10 years later. Here is how it goes:

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched knight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched knight,
So haggard and so woe-begone
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery's child:
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said,
"I love thee true!"

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild, sad eyes--
So kissed to sleep.

And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried--"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill side.

And that is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.


Now for my interpretations.

1. The 'Knight' is a guy who just got dumped by his significant other of many years. And he's going through that phase of self-pity, "I cant go through a relationship again" phase.

2. The guy just slept with a hooker and picked up an STD. And has no clue what to do about it.

3. The guy has a fatal disease, and this is a conversation he's having with his life, personified as a wretched knight.

4. The guy is a rapist, and now it's his conscience that is disrobing him.

Now help me add to this list, will ya?