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Now That is Funny (Nonfiction)

Optimized-funny

 

A week after I was here and kind of settled to the temperature dip of 33 degrees from Mumbai to Basel, I decided to get a nice change of hairstyle to pep me up, what I call as being “Chamko”. After a super session and a happy me stepped out more confident and good looking than before, I hopped in the tram. Just a few stops later is the Novartis HQ. A group of 4 men and a woman, an American, let us call him John Doe, an American Desi {that’s what I call people of our origin who have settled for years in the big Apple},  – Krishnakant Gopalachary – rechristened as Kris in the U.S of A, 2 Indians – typical – Anil and Sunil, first time onsite project and a Chinese woman – So Su Mi who made me proud for my height, got in and this is what happened.

First the yappy So Su Mi hops in and lands her tiny tooh next to me. Next in John Doe with a gait of I own the world gets in with Kris and lastly Anil and Sunil both looking down enter.

So Su Mi in her shrill voice that pierced my ear and reached the tram driver, “Give me the bags….I can hold the bags.”

No one responded, John smiled at her while Kris greeted the others around mutedly just to gel in the Europeans too, Anil and Sunil stared at me thinking, desi hai with a Burberry scarf and a Channel bag, wah!!

John in his Uncle Sam voice, “Hey Kris….where are we getting down, is it the same place by the river…ah forgot the name”…tries to give a thought.

John’s voice echoed as the uptight Swiss people not used to the US and India decibels raised their eye brows.

So Su Me added, “No it was a café you are talking about.” No one heeded.

Kris adjusting his tie (in sub 0 temperature the dude was just in his suit), “ah that…oh I know it all, it’s just here after the next two stops.” His accent gave me goosebumps so did Anil and Sunil’s stares.

“What is it that we had last year at that place? Ahhh the cheese dish, was awesome!” the man with the power spoke again.

“Raclette!” the shrill voice got ignored again.

“Flammkuchen…” the man who will make a difference someday spoke.

The chances of Anil and Sunil’s next designation rise was directly proportional to their silence or so it seemed.

And the last stop announced, “Kleinhüningen”

I picked my booty and turned to the shrill voice, “hey you have got in right tram but opposite direction, get down at Marktplatz and the restaurant is Movenpick….don’t forget to try the fondue….the Swiss cheese specialty of winters. 🙂

*****************************************************************************************************************************

We all meet people, see things in our daily life….I interpreted a very mundane scenario my way. Hope you like it….a slice of my life 🙂

 

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The Missing Babloo – Hasya Rasa

Hasya ras

 

The Missing Babloo

The driver honked several times with the stipulated time for stopover at the highway closed as all other passengers hopped in the bus while Ananya stuffed the last eateries in her bag and ran waving at the driver gesturing “don’t you leave without me!”

Pushing and nudging people she reached her seat in the second last row accidently stepping on the foot of a fellow passenger making her way to the window seat, the overweight woman grumpily looking at her expecting an apology.

In the next moment “My babloo is missing!” she got up immediately, “oh I left him here….hey stop the damn bus.” She again hopped out of her seat stepping on the lady again, searching madly peeping on other passengers and seats.

Many others joined her shouting Babloo…are you there, many peeped out of the window to find him, Ananya worried, “where did I leave him, at the restaurant may be, I love him…Babloo!” the passengers asking questions started pacifying her.

Just then she looked at the cabinet on the roof above the seats and happily shouted, “Here he is!” passengers astonishingly and angrily looked on as she pulled her guitar and hugged it tight; “Is that Babloo?” she was just short of being bashed.

***********************************************************************************************************

Shashank portrayed Shringar beautifully, I was floored reading his master stroke, the second rasa is Hasya as in Humor, leave you hoping to spread smiles 🙂

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Ganesh versus the Third Reich (Nazis)

b2b_gvtr01eif2014Adolf Hitler, Lord Ganesh and a cast of intellectually challenged people trying to put together a play is the plot of the play.

Ganesh versus the Third Reich was the first play I went last week to see at the Basel theatre. Firstly it was surprising they were playing an English play in Basel. But I am a fan of theatre artists and thus had to go and watch. This isn‘t a review as I am not good at it and thus never tried, what I will try to do is narrate my experience.

There were two main factors why I was interested to go and watch the play. Ganesh versus the Third Reich is a 100 minute skit by a learning-disabled ensemble produced by Back to Back theatre group.

The play revolves around two narratives to address a major question „who has the right to tell a story and who has the right to be heard.”

The first narrative is that of a director who wants to direct a play on Lord Ganesh with a cast of disabled actors. The stage opens with bare minimum props and a group of actors who are trying to enact a story.

Source: Google images

The second narrative is interwoven with first and an interesting shot in 1943 when Adolf Hitler has stolen the Swastika a symbol of wellbeing and balance. Lord Shiva is enraged and vows to end the universe, that is when goddess Parvati (wife of Lord Shiva) and mother of Lord Ganesh demands her son Ganesh to go to Germany and reclaim the Swastika to calm Lord Shiva.

While this narrative of Lord Ganesh’s resolve to get the swastika back is enacted, the cast keeps interrupting the play and and switching to first narrative of improvising the backstage rehearsals.

Ganesh versus the third reichCertain scenes from narrative one are uncomfortable and pose serious questions be it when a bolshie actor called Scott Price is questioning his co-star’s Mark’s mental capacity. “You’ve got the mind of a goldfish,” Scott challenges Mark Deans, the non-communicative character in the cast. “Do you?” the David Woods (the only abled cast member), the director joins in. “Do you have the mind of a goldfish?” Mark silences for long thinking for an answer.

This scene tries to point to the Nazi’s mass extermination programme T4 for disabled people where they killed people with deformity. The director David Woods (narrative one) also plays Dr. Josef Mengele in narrative two who was a known Doctor in the Nazi regime and is seen walking on the stage an SS uniform, shouting about his passion for “the abnormal be it  birth defects, dwarfs, mongoloids or some degenerative conditions”.

The constantly drop out of character to question their right of telling the story specially when none of them are Hindu or Jewish.

GANESH VS THE THIRD REICH photo BUSBY_262The play is intelligently crafted trying to bring up subtle questions aloud. These scenes are kept simple but beautifully designed – they used shadow-play-style backdrops are used and  pulled on and off transparent curtains; to show Swiss alps moving past the train, and the moonless night sky of Berlin.

Startling images … Brian Tilley and Simon Laherty in Ganesh Versus the Third Reich at the EdinburghOn the way Lord Ganesh meets a feeble man from a concentration camp who narrates his story of how Hitler killed his family the sisters because they were too young and the others who were too old.

I found the climax point of the play when the director shocks into a direct address to the audience, challenging various levels of involvement, whether sympathetic, ashamed, demeaning – or simply accepting, finally  identifying the audience as the potential enemy.

Lord Ganesh reclaims the Swastika in narrative two and Hitler is seen walking away and the director coming forth, trying to convey the evil does not end.

All in all a brilliant play as i feel that every individual will have his own perspective and take on the questions posed be it right to perform or the abled and strong always oppress others. It is poignant, thought provoking and has a lasting impact on the audience.

Image Source: Google Images

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Sharmaji gets Stylish.

 
„Hold the mirror up on the right side Loveleen, I can’t see a thing.” Sharmaji said irritatingly.
“Oh ho, I really don’t understand this ritual of yours every month.” Said Loveleen frustrated.
“Cutting ones hair is a bad thing right?” Sharmaji quizzed.
“No, it isn’t. But trying to save 25 rupees and doing it at home is the issue. And be very careful the scissor is razer sharp.”
“Ok, ok I get that, now will you hold the mirror right so that I can manage the cut well.”
Loveleen kept holding the mirror as Sharmaji adjusted his face looking closely at the mirror in from of him and getting a rear view of his hair as Loveleen held the one behind him.
He was about to get a measure and cut when Loveleen shouted, “Ohhhhhh nooooooo, my dal, its burning….the cooker.” She dashed the mirror on the washbasin and ran to the kitchen.
Sharmaji gave an angry look, “I don’t understand her at all”, and he told himself nodding his head.
He picked up the mirror in one hand and tried to get a look of his locks above his nape and continued.
“OH MY GOD, Loveleen.” He cried out in terror.
Loveleen came back running and so did his younger daughter Gutti.
Loveleen shrieked, “Sharmaji, what have you done?” Gutti tried hard but could not contain her laughter. She immediately picked her phone and clicked him and sent it to her elder sister Pinky on whatapp with a caption, Dad spotted in a new look LOL and two winky smilees.”
“Is it all gone?” Sharmaji was now tensed.
Loveleen held his face examining his hair, “No, a big chunk of it till I can see your skull, hmmmm may be the size of a motichoor laddoo.”
Sharmaji started sweating as he tried feeling the portion of his head where he accidentally grazed a major chunk of his hair.
“You can’t do that with scissors, what did you do?”
“Well, you see this!” He picked up the automatic razor and displayed it to them, the girls had given me on my birthday to get rid of my nose, ears and chest hair….I used that thinking it would be quicker than the scissors, I didn’t in my dream think, it would do this.”
By this time Gutti had run into her room and was literally rolling on the floor with laughter.
“What do we do now Loveleen? Sharmaji moved his head from left to right to get a stock of the damage done.
“Do you want to consider getting rid of it all completely?
“You mean bald…”
“You already have a receding hairline, try it.”
“What try it, my father and your father in law is still alive ok, don’t you ever say try it…”He said utterly frustrated at this suggestion.
Gutti ran to the scene again, trying to maintain a serious face but burst out again as she saw him. Loveleen looked at her with big eyes and she stopped, gulping her chuckle uttered, “Dad I think, Di is not going to like it, I mean it’s her Arangetram (*it is a public graduation performance for a dance form) tomorrow. And you would be called on stage too! You know what I mean?” She somehow managed saying that without laughing.
“How about wearing a wig?” She continued trying to sound serious.
Sharmaji and Loveleen looked at her startled. “His hair is still there, not gone, it’s just the rear right which is bald…well not bald but…” She stopped realizing the panic Sharmaji was in. Sharmaji had just  stabilized and was accepting the fact of what had happened.
All three stood looking at each other in the bathroom. “Isn’t it stuffy here.” Gutti said breaking the silence, “Can we at least move out of this place.” Gutti said walking slowly out of the bathroom. Loveleen and Sharmaji followed.
Just then Pinky rushed in, dropped her bag near the door and “Dad, what did you do? I mean it’s my function tomorrow. I have been waiting so long for this day.” She immediately stopped looking at Sharmaji’s embarrassed face.
He turned back to display his doing to Pinky. It was now feeling like what a model feels on the ramp when there is a wardrobe malfunction. Pinky’s jaw dropped at the faux pas she was witnessing. She could visualize her friends mocking and laughing at her.
Half an hour into the drama and things were sinking in. Great ideas came up.
How about putting in some fake hair and sticking it there? – Pinky
Can we just take some brush bristles and cover the big patch? – of course Gutti
The Dhony look, it’s in vogue! – Pinky, trying to make his father look cool and mod.
A cap or a hat, you like Dev Anand, isn’t it, but would that cover the required? – puzzled Loveleen.
Sharmaji closed his eyes and sat there on the sofa. With renewed determination he got up like a soldier who has made up his mind to win the battle or like the way Archimedes would have said “Eureka!”
He went into the bathroom and locked himself for 1.5 hours. The girls roamed up and down in the living room trying to guard their neighbor Leena coming home and Loveleen knocked the door sometimes concerned and sometimes giving a pep talk. Later all were quiet and got back to their chores.
Sharmaji walked confidently to the living room, his demeanor was different. He had colored his hair all black after 10 years. He wore the shirt, trouser and blazer that he was to wear for the function and the biggest change was he rolled a woolen scarf that matched the blazer, hit the patch successfully and overall looked splendid.
There was pin drop silence, he looked at all three of them, finally his confidence was giving in and nervously he said, “What, not ok?”
All three unanimously said, “Sharmaji, you look awesome and so young. Love you.” As all three hugged him altogether.
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Cubicle life – Dawn of occupational burnout.



Office Space – Did that ring any bell?

For those who are a part of the office space fan club will relate to this instantly.

Bill Lumbergh: Hello, Peter. What’s happening? Uh…we have sort of a problem here. Yeah.You apparently didn’t put one of the new coversheets on your TPS reports.
 

Peter Gibbons: Oh, yeah. I’m sorry about that. I, I forgot.
 

Bill Lumbergh: Mmmm…yeah. You see, we’re putting the coversheets on all TPS reports now before they go out. Did you see the memo about this?
 

Peter Gibbons: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I have the memo right here. I just uh…forgot. But, uh, it’s not shipping out till tomorrow, so there’s no problem.
 

Bill Lumbergh: Yeah. If you could just go ahead and make sure you do that from now on, that will be great. And uh, I’ll go ahead and make sure you get another copy of that memo. Mmmkay? Bye bye, Peter.
 

Peter Gibbons: No, I…I have the memo. I’ve got it. It’s right…

 [Lumbergh isn’t listening and walks away from Peter’s cubicle]

OR

Samir: No one in this country can ever pronounce my name right. It’s…it’s not that hard. Na-ghee-na-na-jar. Nagheenanajar.

Michael Bolton:Yeah, well, at least your name isn’t Michael Bolton.

 Samir: You know, there’s nothing wrong with that name.

 Michael Bolton:There was nothing wrong with it, until I was about twelve years old and that no-talent ass clown became famous and started winning Grammys.

Samir:Hmm…well, why don’t you just uh…go by Mike instead of Michael?

 Michael Bolton:No way! Why should I change? He’s the one who sucks.

It’s a 1999 comedy for those who get up in the morning and rush to work, sit in the confines of a cubicle for 9 hours and do it all over again the next day. Life in the office couldn’t be depicted more accurately than in this terrific satire. The characters, story and dialogue are very sharp and wickedly humorous. If you hate your job and want to feel a little better about it then this movie is for you.

 

For those who haven’t seen it, here is a short glimpse of the movie!

 



 

I have seen the movie more than the number of fingers in my hand. What I think the bigger picture is occupational burn out. Now that was a mouthful isn’t it. Like I have been working for 10 years without a break and going strong (at least till now).

So what is occupational burnout? My ex-boss always said, “Shweta, the day you get up in the morning and don’t feel like going to work, it’s time to give up.” I once very proudly passed this gyan to my brother and he said, “I feel it every day.” I shut after that.

Occupational or job burnout is characterized by exhaustion, lack of enthusiasm and motivation, feeling ‘drained’, and also may have the dimension of frustration and/or negative emotions and cynical behaviour, and as a result reduced professional efficacy within the workplace.

Why not take a short test to see if we suffer from a job burnout?  


Results

Now if you landed in 15-18, am sure you are enjoying your life. Anything above this is my Gurumantra
 
Get some METIME: When I say metime, it does not include family and friends. It’s your personal time where you can enjoy what YOU like doing. It could be reading, walking, music or just sitting and meditating.
Take a holiday: May be you have not taken a break, pack you bag take sometime off. Go away from the normal work life and come back refreshed.
Meet Friends: No put that phone down, I didn’t mean WhatsApp, I mean real people over coffee.Call them fix sometime.
No THINK TIME: Make it a habit to have some time off where you don’t think especially of work. Just cut off from the buzz, switch your phone off (too much, silent it then). Give your mind some break.
Change: Yes may be you have got in a comfort zone and need something more exciting. Think of change of role in same organisation or elsewhere.
 
None of the above works….oh “Ab sirf bhagwaan aur dua kaam aa sakti hai” (Only God and prayers can help you).

 
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Sharmaji ka Happy Birthday!

„Hello Madam “Sharmaji yelled, looking up from his balcony at the flat above. “You, madam, yellow sari. Stop drying your clothes here, all water drops on my plants. My coriander has died twice.” He tried looking up again when a splash of water fell on his face along with the blouse that rested straight on his spectacles.

“Aye, uncle, whom are you calling yellow sari. If I don’t dry my clothes in balcony where do I?” Leena stretched her vocals to reach Sharma’s ears.

Loveleen ran to the balcony and pushed Sharmaji, “Arre Leenaji, please do dry your clothes and don’t mind what Sharmaji just said.”

She held him by his arm and as he moved the piece of cloth and tried cleaning the lens “Don’t you realise she gives us curd, sugar when we run out of it, I have few friends don’t you get cross at her.”

Sharmaji got busy reading the maintenance bill dated 25thJuly, 2014 (today) adjusting his spectacles not heeding to any of what his wife said.

Meet Vinod Sharma, 44 year old, sorry 43 years, 11 months and 29 days old insurance agent with State bank of India.  He stays in a 1 BHK house in Dadar with his wife Loveleen (38) and 2 daughters Pinky (16) and Gutti (12).

“Oh that Tiwari has again charged me interest on maintenance; I will show him now and teach him what he has not learnt in his MBA.” He murmured frustrated wearing his shirt.

“Sharmaji, don’t wear the shirt out and comb your hair before going. No doubt people call me your eldest daughter. Do get your medical report before coming.”

Sharmaji opened the door “I will get that tomorrow, Loveleen” and Pinky barged in, “Hi dad.”

“Call me papa.” He muttered still engrossed reading the bill walking out.

“Mom, we will have a surprise party for dad’s birthday day after. My friend, Joe has started a DJ and catering service. I have promised him to be his first good luck customer.” Pinky exclaimed in a typical teenager tone.

“Do what you like, we have a budget of Rs. 2000 including gift. You have to manage in that.” Loveleen warned.

**********************************************************************************

“Hello, myself Vinod Sharma, have my reports arrived?” Sharmaji enquired at the hospital.

“Gupte, get me Sharma’s report, put on today’s date, 26thJuly; 2014” retorted the plump lab assistant of DR. Shroff.  Gupte, a 68 year old admin found Sharmaji’s report among the lot that was stacked and handed it to the assistant.

“Take the report and wait for the doctor, he wants to meet you.” She directed Sharmaji.

Sharmaji sat on the posh leather sofa thinking these hospitals are no less than a 5 star hotels. He looked at the semi-nude paintings from a renowned painter what they these days call as investments. The 3 Sony LEDs played different channels as people in the waiting room got glued to each of them. The audience was clear, the 50 plus to the screen playing news, the women on the daily soap operas and the youngsters which had a B grade hero moving his booty to a C grade song, which after putting on spectacles read TOOH, whatever it meant.

“Vinod Sharma, third cabin from left.” the lab assistant called out.

“Sharmaji, do you have a very hectic life, are you too stressed?” Dr. Shroff was a leading Oncologist in town. Sharmaji has a family history of cancer and thus had a norm of getting a yearly regular check-up.

“No, why doctor.I mean who doesn’t these days.” Sharmaji asked puzzled.

“See it happens, life these days is stressful and there are treatments for everything.” said the doctor patiently.

“Doctor, what are you talking about? What has happened to me? Be clear before my heart pops out of my body.” Sharmaji said nervously fidgeting with his shirt corner.

“Ok, you have a rare cancer; it is grade III and stage III. Not much can be done but treatment and hope.”

Sharmaji could not believe what he had just heard. There was no point in doubting the doctor. The drudgeries of life had made him restless, anxious and to an extent pessimist.

“How much time do I have, doctor?” The typical filmy question, as he wiped the sweat of his brow and tears that had welled up under his glasses.

“4-6 months, with treatment we can delay it, don’t you worry.” Doctor placed his hand on Sharmaji’s trying to give hope.

“I am a dying man, what difference does it make 6 months or a year” Sharmaji stood up dejected, picked up his report and turned to leave.

He kept reading the report  which made no sense to him listening to zindagi kaisi hai paheli haaye that played the autorickshaw…..thinking of his investments and insurance policy that he can leave for his family.

Sharma reached home, did not eat lunch and had a few morsels for dinner. He started looking more ill than he felt. His voice mellowed with every response to his family. He kissed his daughters again and again.

*****************************************************************************

“How many times have I told you, do not watch movies early morning?” He yelled at Gutti.

“Dad, it’s not morning, its 10 am and its 27th July, 2014, a Sunday!” She energetically said.

Brought back to reality, Sharma opened his diary (he decided to keep one since he left the doctors) and marked the day in tally mark III, “yes beta, Please watch, by the way what movie are you watching.” He said in the softest tone his daughter had ever heard.

“Eh?” she said surprised at his tone. “Dasvidaniya, meaning goodbye, the best part is the hero puts on the list of ten things to be done before death.” She replies her eyes glued to the TV.

“Oh, who can relate it more than me?” He whispered to himself, thinking no one remembers his birthday.. Well good for them, they will get over my loss soon, thinking to himself.

**********************************************************************************

Sharmaji had slept more in the last three days than he had in the entire month. After all he was suffering from a fatal disease and had only some time left. He got up from his bed at 7.00 pm and walked to the living room.

“Happpppyyyy Birthday Dad!!!!¨” cheered Pinky among all the relatives and friends.

“Call me pa….You can call me dad” he said with a half-smile as people surrounded to wish him.

He was overwhelmed, nervous, and sad but had thought of keeping all happy for whatever of him was left.

Relatives made merry, talked to him and his answers got even more philosophical.

The DJ blew the speakers as his daughters and friends danced to TOOH. Loveleen served starters as Sharmaji sat at the table looking at the burning candles on the cake.

“Sharmaji, I am extremely sorry, I will not dry my clothes in the balcony now and you can eat your coriander.” Leena chuckled.

“Your clothes have more life than I do, I am a dying coriander.” said Sharmaji.

“Oh you are a humorous man.” Leena replied.

What a dying man has but humor, Sharma thought to himself when Loveleen gestured him to attend a phone call for him.  

He picked up with a more than sad “Hello, myself Vinod Sharma.”

“Sharmaji, I am lab assistant from Dr. Shroff’s hospital, I am really sorry the report you have is of another patient. Your reports are normal and you have no cancer. Our admin, Gupte, not being good at computers, typed the wrong name and mixed it. We are really sorry. Please forgive this. You have no disease.” The line cut abruptly.

Sharma could not believe what he has just heard. On one hand he was angry at the so called high class hospitals but the happiness exceeded his anger, he ran to the room like a guy in his 20’s and shouted out of happiness. He relished the starters and the cake, joked and lightly flirted with Leena and even danced to TOOH. However Vinod Sharma being him, did not forget to ask the DJ how much had his daughters blew cash on his birthday.

 
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Sharmaji ka Happy Birthday!

„Hello Madam “Sharmaji yelled, looking up from his balcony
at the flat above. “You, madam, yellow sari. Stop drying your clothes here, all
water drops on my plants. My coriander has died twice.” He tried looking up
again when a splash of water fell on his face along with the blouse that rested
straight on his spectacles.

“Aye, uncle, whom are you calling yellow sari. If I don’t dry
my clothes in balcony where do I?” Leena stretched her vocals to reach Sharma’s ears.

Loveleen ran to the balcony and pushed Sharmaji, “Arre
Leenaji, please do dry your clothes and don’t mind what Sharmaji just said.”

She held him by his arm and as he moved the piece of cloth
and tried cleaning the lens “Don’t you realise she gives us curd, sugar when we
run out of it, I have few friends don’t you get cross at her.”

Sharmaji got busy reading the maintenance bill dated 25th
July, 2014 (today) adjusting his spectacles not heeding to any of what his wife
said.

Meet Vinod Sharma, 44 year old, sorry 43 years, 11 months
and 29 days old insurance agent with State bank of India.  He stays in a 1 BHK house in Dadar with his
wife Loveleen (38) and 2 daughters Pinky (16) and Gutti (12).

“Oh that Tiwari has again charged me interest on maintenance;
I will show him now and teach him what he has not learnt in his MBA.” He murmured
frustrated wearing his shirt.

“Sharmaji, don’t wear the shirt out and comb your hair
before going. No doubt people call me your eldest daughter. Do get your medical
report before coming.”

Sharmaji opened the door “I will get that tomorrow, Loveleen”
and Pinky barged in, “Hi dad.”

“Call me papa.” He muttered still engrossed reading the bill
walking out.

“Mom, we will have a surprise party for dad’s birthday day
after. My friend, Joe has started a DJ and catering service. I have promised
him to be his first good luck customer.” Pinky exclaimed in a typical teenager tone.

“Do what you like, we have a budget of Rs. 2000 including
gift. You have to manage in that.” Loveleen warned.

**********************************************************************************

“Hello, myself Vinod Sharma, have my reports arrived?”
Sharmaji enquired at the hospital.

“Gupte, get me Sharma’s report, put on today’s date, 26th
July; 2014” retorted the plump lab assistant of DR. Shroff.  Gupte, a 68 year old admin found Sharmaji’s
report among the lot that was stacked and handed it to the assistant.

“Take the report and wait for the doctor, he wants to meet
you.” She directed Sharmaji.

Sharmaji sat on the posh leather sofa thinking these hospitals
are no less than a 5 star hotels. He looked at the semi-nude paintings from a renowned
painter what they these days call as investments. The 3 Sony LEDs played
different channels as people in the waiting room got glued to each of them. The
audience was clear, the 50 plus to the screen playing news, the women on the
daily soap operas and the youngsters which had a B grade hero moving his booty
to a C grade song, which after putting on spectacles read TOOH, whatever it meant.

“Vinod Sharma, third cabin from left.” the lab assistant called
out.

“Sharmaji, do you have a very hectic life, are you too
stressed?” Dr. Shroff was a leading Oncologist in town. Sharmaji has a family
history of cancer and thus had a norm of getting a yearly regular check-up.

“No, why doctor.I mean who doesn’t these days.” Sharmaji asked puzzled.

“See it happens, life these days is stressful and there are
treatments for everything.” said the doctor patiently.

“Doctor, what are you talking about? What has happened to
me? Be clear before my heart pops out of my body.” Sharmaji said nervously fidgeting
with his shirt corner.

“Ok, you have a rare cancer; it is grade III and stage III.
Not much can be done but treatment and hope.”

Sharmaji could not believe what he had just heard. There was
no point in doubting the doctor. The drudgeries of life had made him restless,
anxious and to an extent pessimist.

“How much time do I have, doctor?” The typical filmy
question, as he wiped the sweat of his brow and tears that had welled up under his glasses.

“4-6 months, with treatment we can delay it, don’t you
worry.” Doctor placed his hand on Sharmaji’s trying to give hope.

“I am a dying man, what difference does it make 6 months or a year”
Sharmaji stood up dejected, picked up his report and turned to leave.

He kept reading the report  which made no sense to him listening
to zindagi kaisi hai paheli haaye that played the autorickshaw…..thinking
of his investments and insurance policy that he can leave for his family.

Sharma reached home, did not eat lunch and had a few morsels
for dinner. He started looking more ill than he felt. His voice mellowed with
every response to his family. He kissed his daughters again and again.

*****************************************************************************

“How many times have I told you, do not watch movies early
morning?” He yelled at Gutti.

“Dad, it’s not morning, its 10 am and its 27th July,
2014, a Sunday!” She energetically said.

Brought back to reality, Sharma opened his diary (he decided
to keep one since he left the doctors) and marked the day in tally mark III,
“yes beta, Please watch, by the way what movie are you watching.” He said
in the softest tone his daughter had ever heard.

“Eh?” she said surprised at his tone. “Dasvidaniya, meaning
goodbye, the best part is the hero puts on the list of ten things to be done before death.” She replies her
eyes glued to the TV.

“Oh, who can relate it more than me?” He whispered to
himself, thinking no one remembers his birthday.. Well good for them, they will
get over my loss soon, thinking to himself.

**********************************************************************************

Sharmaji had slept more in the last three days than he had
in the entire month. After all he was suffering from a fatal disease and had
only some time left. He got up from his bed at 7.00 pm and walked to the living
room.

“Happpppyyyy Birthday Dad!!!!¨” cheered Pinky among all the
relatives and friends.

“Call me pa….You can call me dad” he said with a half-smile
as people surrounded to wish him.

He was overwhelmed, nervous, and sad but had thought of
keeping all happy for whatever of him was left.

Relatives made merry, talked to him and his answers got even
more philosophical.

The DJ blew the speakers as his daughters and friends danced
to TOOH. Loveleen served starters as Sharmaji sat at the table looking at the
burning candles on the cake.

“Sharmaji, I am extremely sorry, I will not dry my clothes
in the balcony now and you can eat your coriander.” Leena chuckled.

“Your clothes have more life than I do, I am a dying
coriander.” said Sharmaji.

“Oh you are a humorous man.” Leena replied.

What a dying man has but humor, Sharma thought to himself
when Loveleen gestured him to attend a phone call for him.  

He picked up with a more than sad “Hello, myself Vinod
Sharma.”

“Sharmaji, I am lab assistant from Dr. Shroff’s hospital, I am
really sorry the report you have is of another patient. Your reports are normal
and you have no cancer. Our admin, Gupte, not being good at computers, typed
the wrong name and mixed it. We are really sorry. Please forgive this. You have no disease.”
The line cut abruptly.

Sharma could not believe what he has just heard. On one hand
he was angry at the so called high class hospitals but the happiness exceeded his
anger, he ran to the room like a guy in his 20’s and shouted out of happiness.
He relished the starters and the cake, joked and lightly flirted with Leena and
even danced to TOOH. However Vinod Sharma being him, did not forget to ask the
DJ how much had his daughters blew cash on his birthday.

 
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Pre-Prem, Post-Prem……Real Prem??
(*prem is a Sanskrit word meaning love)
Telephone, cell phone, going mobile or being virtual has made the world such a small place……you reckon? I don’t.
30 CHF or 150 INR – 1 GB internet, 90 minutes and unlimited text messages free!!!!!! We have divided our love based on the cell phone scheme we have whether its prepaid or postpaid. Pre-paid scheme more text messages and less talk (messages are free you see). So you text your boyfriend all the time and mom who has failed to keep herself abreast with the short text language gets the few minutes if calling is free. Post-paid schemes….night calling at half rates!!! I haven’t got a better scheme yet dude. I can talk late nights with him and my family doesn’t stay awake late so I can spend the few minutes on high rate day calling on them. When was the last time you saw a self-written post card sent or received from your loved one? Missing the personal touch eh, the thought that he would have touched the same card that you are holding now or smelling his fragrance from the card reminding you of the intimacy you shared….fast forward, get to today’s world…what card…the e card?
The world really has got closer, you need not visit your relatives as you have video calling. You are glued to your laptop when working, blackberry to receive and send emails with zero time lapses and of course the Xbox….you need to unwind after a day’s work. Asking my dad on what would he do after his office and he would get the glitter in his eyes and say all the friends would meet below the apartment daily post dinner and chitchat, share happy and sad moments and advice each other. Over weekends it was cricket at the local street and all would look forward to it as the losing team would treat the winning one. What life man!!! And here I am spending on all the expensive gadgets to keep myself busy and still get depressed at the end of the week.
Now talking of the more advanced world …..Our self-made ecosystem…..our virtual world, the face books and messengers of the world. The good part is you get in touch with those whom you thought would never meet you in life, you also meet those whom you choose to be friends with without the boundaries of appearance and status.
But I want to draw your attention to the funnier side of being virtual and what I think when I read these……
LOL(laugh out loud) – when was the time you even laughed forget being loud…..i heard you have joined the laugh club where in each morning you go to a garden and pretend to laugh till your intestines blast….
ROFL (Roll on the floor and laugh)……I really want to see you do that….that would ensure I LOLJ
AFAIC or AFAICT – (As far as I am concerned/tell)….i could type the words faster than the acronym
AFB – (Away from brain)….when were you last thereJ
I can leave you thinking with the rest AISB, AMF, AWS and AYT……
Well not being too sarcastic and I agree we don’t have a lot of personal time, I wouldn’t even deny that our gen guys have more competition at work, put in longer hours, have complex business situations to deal with but given a deeper thought I believe and agree that people who think life is bigger than family or job or yourself am sure will give you a different perspective. I would leave you with this thought that we all have been given the same gift called “life” and differences in life between two individuals are a result of the choices he makes. So if I make a choice that I want to live my life to the fullest without pulling restrictive goals of managing a company, making babies, owning property or doing charity…I would still be happy. For me…it’s a journey…full of surprises and knowing myself better and thus Life’s Like That!!!!
PS- The next time you want to speak to a friend who is closer…just walk over to him don’t get to digital emotions. 
Posted on
MEN ARE LIKE RUBBER BANDS!!

John Gray in his book Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus talks of men having an intimacy cycle which is much like a rubber band….

“they instinctively pull away. It is not a decision or a choice. It just happens. It is neither his fault nor her fault. It’s a natural cycle”

I agree with Gray on men being like rubber bands but it is not his decision or choice……nor his fault….dude is in serious misconception there!

Am sure all my women friends will have a déjà vu feeling when they hear the words…I am blank…a standard connotation used by the rightly called rubber bands  Interestingly my interpretation goes that men pull back as much as they can and then get reminded….some things would require mademoiselle and thus the rubber band is back to position!

So to be more precise John Gray also describes that men who are habitually insensitive or unavailable and who come to women when they need an ego boost or in his words get generally to get his needs met (mostly emotional) without fulfilling her needs…. here he got it right again but I see a different pattern now…

In these changing times we all, both men and women can have phases of being less tolerant and emotionally insensitive. With the high divorce rates and break-ups sky rocketing it is very natural to not be able to emotionally engage with someone on a healthy level for long periods of time.

For me it’s about foundation….the stone on which the relationship is based…if that stepping stone is strong…..let the rubber band stretch… it will surely come to position. Whatever we say both the sexes fail to exist without each other and for once let us women too agree…they aren’t that bad…it’s all on us to recognize if it’s not being a rubber band that comes back only to get the way and back again or a rubber band that stretches so much that breaks.

The argument continues……..

I will leave you on the fence with this liner from fml: ‘Today, my friend told me men can’t be trusted. I told her that wasn’t true; I have my husband’s password to his email but I never check it because I trust him. She bet me he was doing something bad, and to prove her wrong I looked. Turns out he has been cheating on me for 8 months’

Thoughts anyone……