Page 3!

“Now read the news on this page too”
Dadu (grandfather) demanded as he passed the Bombay Times to me.

“Dadu, There is no news on this page.”

“What! No news? Then what is all this written under the pictures and who are these people? Do I know them?”

“Who? These? How would you know them, dadu?”

“Then? Why are their pictures in the newspapers? Are they famous people?

“Well, don’t know, maybe in a way to some extent.”

“Who are they? Movie Stars?”

” No dadu , they are not movie stars”.

“Then? Models?”
Dadu frowned and adjusted his glass to look closely at the picture of a girl who seemed to be having a good time with the much older and completely bald man.

“Wait a minute. This girl…is she a model? Here… heres a name given Preeti…. Preeti Jaiswal.” Who is this Preeti Jaiswal??

“Dadu!! how would I know who is Preeti Jaiswal.”

“Then? Why the names…?”

“Dadu. They’re just there because someone paid the newspaper to have their pictures on print. It’s publicity, that’s all. They’re called the ‘Page 3′ people.”

“Ah. That movie. Did they acted in that movie? Where is Konkona’s picture?”

“Aaargh, no dadu, they didn’t. Page 3 is…it’s a name for…for these socialite kinds. Celebrities too are featured in it. It’s just like you know, the ‘editorial’ page where you find editorials? (Sheesh…what a comparison). But it’s just as an example, no please don’t draw parallels.” But it was too late. He was already at it.

“Editorial? You mean, these people have written all that’s written here, on this…this Page 3?”

“Daaaduuuu…”.

Michael Jackson’s last “Thriller”

Yumi mailed me the link that an apparition was witnessed while filming the Neverland for Larry King Show. Some believe that it’s MJ’s spirit walking by the corridor. MJ’s ghost moonwalking all over Neverland. Now that’s what I call a “Thriller”.

R.I.P Dear Michael, you have had enough.

A short glimpse of ladakh

 

 Ever since I can remember , I have always been fascinated by the Himalays. They have always appeared to me so mysterious and aloof. I  had seen numerous pictures and seen many videos, but when I actually caught a glimpse of the beauty with my own eyes, I fell in love with this region. So here goes the first of my Photo log with more to see and less nonsense to read.

The First Glimpse

 

Bit closer to Himalayas

 

Mystic Mountains

 

Snow Clad Beauty

 

It can get lonely out there.

 

The Leh Airport

View from Hotel

 

Shades

Prayer Wheel

Happy Birthday to Me…

Another year! Another birthday!

The cake

From 20 to early 20s to soon racing to mid-20s to finally late 20s.And soon in few years I would be 30, the mid-life. Birthdays have become a reminder that I need to act fast and settle down.    Life is racing like anything and I have just started discovering life.Birthdays also flood me with the memories of the yesteryears. No matter how hard I try not to get misty-eyed, my mind is flooded with memories of  June 16 when our living room would be decked out with ribbons, my dad would be blowing balloons, my mom would get busy preparing the cake and the dishes, while I would be rubbing my hands gleefully in anticipation of all the gifts I would have at the end of the day.

Gifts.Yes that’s what birthdays were for. By 8 o’clock in the evening I would start feeling jumpy at the late hangers-on as I kept looking at the clock with increasing impatience. Did these people not understand that it was now time to open my gifts ! Incidentally my parents were not in favour of opening presents in front of everyone, no doubt because of my expressive face which mirrored (and still does) my disappointment and glee a bit too honestly. Hence the wait.

And then at night I would be sitting on the bed and rip away  the gift-wraps. Blessed were those who gave Tintins, Moby books (children’s illustrated classics), cricket bats, badminton racquets  and damned to the 10th circle of hell were those who gave shirt and trouser pieces (somehow I never liked the gifted dresses), Russian fairy tales and birthday cards that had “Happy Seasons Greetings” written on them.

Gifts recieved from parents were always special as I had already coneveyed the list of what I expect since long. For me, it was mostly the latest G.I Joe toys or the video game that I would crave for as all my friends seemed to own them.However never was my wish granted. Mom and Dad has always been very practical and concerned with the utility of the gift they gave me.So it was either a bicycle, a painting set (yes I was good at drawing and sketching)  or a cricket bat. Sometimes I would be dissapointed initially but would realise that the gifts they gave me has lasted much longer and have been of better usage than the things I had wated at that point of time. Thank you dad(He was generally the decision make for the gifts and mom for the food menu)!

Another grudge I had with my birthday wa that it always came in during the summer holidays. This meant never getting to celebrate it in school. I was jealous of all those whose birtdays fell on weekdays and thus they had the liberty on that day to come in any casual dress they wanted. Also they would be wished by the whole class and treated a bit specially by all throughout the day. This never happened for me and has always been my regret.

 Things however have changed now. Older and wiser, I am supposed to dismiss a birthday wish with a shy “thank you” as if any kind of attention is too embarrassing for an old fogey like me.

I do act “mature” of course. But my heart is not in it.

Because honestly, I still crave for all the attention and the fussing.

I  count the wishes in my orkut scrapbook and the phone calls I receive even though I know this is “just another day”.

Yes birthdays are a bitch precisely because of this disconnect between what “should be” and “what is”.

Inner Self

Tommorrow is my birthday. Another year gone. I have aged another year, well atleast physically. However after doing a little bit of  introspection , I realized that not much has changed about me. In terms of my inner self. Externally yes, a lot has changed! Let’s not even go there – appearance, responsibilities, financial status, and all that blah, blah…that is the circle of life and most of us (most…) have to go round it.

But…have you ever felt this? I mean, your thoughts, your basic thoughts remain the same. Of course, as you grow older in this life, most of those thoughts become memories. “Ah, I used to think that way too” or, or smile at a youngster and think “teenage.” But that aside, what you are, you’re the same. And in that sense, you don’t feel a day older than school. Yeah, every now and then, along comes an event or person to remind you to ‘play’ your real age, your exhibited self. But that’s it. When you’re alone driving, smoking, lying in bed or even sitting on the…you know what, every morning, you are back being the kid, the thoughts playing hide and seek with themselves. Your ‘real’ opinions about things, which are not much different from when you were a …say, 10 year old peep from your mind. And it’s remarkable how our body is actually shielding our real self, like an astronaut’s gear. Insulating it and keeping it warm. And you carefully treasure that self day in day out. Looking at it every now and then, taking a peek at it when nobody’s looking.

I say the darndest things

Having long lived my life with minimal activities and with absolutely no method , I finally tried some variety by joining a gym. The schedule, surprisingly, has stuck. The sweaty hour and a half I spend at the gym every evening does make my day even though it leads to my whole body raising multiple revolts within and me becoming completely incapacitated in moving any part.But nevertheless I enjoy.

So there was this gal I met at the gym the other day… Now most gals at the gym are the sweaty and all huffy and puffy. She too was all engrosed with making the workout of her life on the treadmill next to me when I broke the mundaneness of her jog with a “Hey. major workout?” Now, that’s not the best of ice-breakers and coming from a sleazy guy, it would actually have invited the cold shoulder treatment but then I’m not sleazy… so she was all smiles and “Hey”.

“So why do you need to workout so much? You’re already in perfect shape.” This was obviously me to her and believe me, she was a stunner of an hourglass.

She continued to jog, smiling though.

“I mean, c’mon, look at me… I’ve got a waistline that’s threatening to sag and all. Why you?”

“Uh well… I’ve got a bit of a tummy too and need to get rid of that…”

Tummy? I looked her over… oh yes, just a bit…

I commented, “Yeah it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the figure.”

She smiled and continued jogging.

“Maybe you’re just pregnant!”, I said with a shrug.

The look on her face changed and if it was possible she would have increased her speed on the treadmill and ran the otherway.

She hasn’t spoken to me ever since.

 Why do I have to come up with such silly jokes and that too with women. Why can’t I talk just normal stuff ? Maybe I should just keep quiet for a change. What do you say?

These women find me irressistable.

 

I have become extremely popular with the ladies these days. Don’t believe me? I swear I have at least 5-6 pretty girls calling me every week. Well frankly speaking I do not know if these girls are actually pretty but surely they have sweetest and the most seductive voice. So they sound pretty pretty to me. And all this while I never knew I had such an influence on the female kind. Anyways another thing that I have observed with my sharp observational skill is that all of them seem to be working with some financial institution or the other. I guess my charm works mostly for the highly intellectual types and not on the usual pretty women around me.

 

 

Anyways most of these ladies call me almost everyday on some pretext or the other and ask me if I was ready. Well, that is for their services mostly, Insurance, credit cards, Mutual funds etc. But, being the smart person that I am, I totally understand that they just want to hear my voice and talk to me. 

 

But being a person having high moral fiber I handle them with utmost chivalry and not like those movie stars who press charge on their fans.

 

Here is how I spoke to the first lady who called me to sell a credit card –

 

She: Hi, am I speaking to Mr. Abhishek?

Me: Yes, please.

She: Sir, I am Lata, calling from ICICI life Insurance, and wanted to talk to you.

(Firstly somebody addressing me as “Sir” was totally flattering and made me feel like I have been knighted by her majesty the Queen and being called Sir Abhishek Basu.

Secondly let me tell you none in my family have ever used a credit card ever neither do they understand anything beyond a ration card which we use to buy our monthly sugar and kerosene. So definitely it was a huge milestone for the Basu family if I was offered our family’s first credit card.)   

Me: Credit cards? Hmm….but how did you get my number?

 

She: Sir, a friend of mine works at ICICI Bank where you have your account and she gave me your contact details. I hope you don’t mind.

 

Me: Arre..he he  of course not. Why should I mind. Just that I did not know that your friend had my number. ( I could not believe that women at the ICICI Mylapore Branch discuss about me with their friends and share my telephone number.)

 

She: Sir, this offer is valid only till this month end. And I would suggest you go for it right away.

 

Me: That was so nice of you to take the trouble to inform me about this offer. But what favor can I do for you in return?

She: Nothing sir, this is plain social work

(Mentally I was imagining lata as a beautiful angel who spread happiness across the world  by distributing free credit cards. She then asked me my Cost To The Company (Salary) and how many years I had put in with Mitsui etc)

 

She: Sir, We can offer you a Gold card. Also, if you have a picture of yours …we could use it on the credit card.

(Alright! so this was the actual plan I thought. She wanted a picture of mine so that she can show her friends and boast that I had presented it personally. I had understood her innocent plan but decided to go along with this and not disappoint her.)

 

Me: That would be great. I really like you. Do you want the picture autographed …err I mean signed?

 

She: No sir! Just an ordinary passport size photograph would do.

 

Me: Oh..ok. Hey thanks a lot for doing so much for me. Perhaps, we could meet somewhere and get to know each other better.

(I asked her out because I thought it was a man’s responsibility to reciprocate nicely to a woman who takes courage to approach a man. Also I guess I was falling in love with her.)

 

She: Sir, we could meet after you get the Gold card.

 

Me: Sure we can. And could I ask you a favor …please, don’t address me as ‘Sir.’

 

She: Sure Abhishek. So I will send one of my executives with the application form.

 

Me: But ..don’t you want to collect it yourself? (I was a bit confused to hear that she was not coming herself after all she took all this pain to call me and get my photograph.)

 

She: No Sir, actually I am a bit busy so will send an executive. Hope you do not mind.

 

Me: No absolutely not …. I understand work comes first.

(I did not want to be perceived as a demanding person and wanted to respect her career too. “Always respect the decisions of the career woman.” my father used to tell me while washing clothes and cleaning the house.)

In a day’s time an executive from the Bank came and in a few days time, I received my first Credit card.

But after that Lata never called. I tried calling the number from where she had called me, but a giggling girl told me that Lata had quit her job.

As days went by and I started recovered from a bout of Dev-D syndrome, I started going to office again. Almost immediately, I started getting many more such calls from ‘pretty’ girls and soon I partially forgot my heartthrob Lata.

While I felt happy that so many girls were taking interest in me…to this day…I fail to understand why they all shy away from meeting me directly!

 

P.S: Lata, if you are reading this, please call me. I promise to take all your insurance, mutual fund, ULIP products even if I have to use my credit card to pay for the premium amounts every month.

 

Discovering Sex

I have often wondered how people learnt all about sex when there were no porn either as magazines or movies. Is that what Ajanta Ellora is? Anyways before i start evoking religious sentiments of moral and culture pilce, let me tell you how i discovered sex. It is never easy if you are born in small family . With no elder brother to hand me down his playboys issues , i had to discover all by myself. Anyways when I was ten years old, I fantasized relationship with Surabhi girl Renuka Sahane – the ever smiling beauty who stole my heart. I even sent her letters after asking the answers from my dad after each episode. But, she broke my heart  everytime ignoring my letters . But my guess is, Siddharth Kak never let her know that I admired her. Maybe, he was jealous.

In those days Doordarshan was the only channel on television and believe me on my quest it did not help much.But destiny does step in the right moment and soon my parents  bought a VCR and I was exposed to the magical land of bollywood where I immediately had a string of relationship with many leading heroines. I was hypnotized by the chirpy laughter of Juhi Chawla, turned a smitten kitten by Madhuri and even thought of running away from home to meet Urmila and tell her how truly I loved her. Even though these ladies did not know that I existed on this earth , somehow I felt they were all made for me and waiting to discover their real hero which was of course your highness.

 

Soon I was old enough to know the human anatomy and was more interested in beauty skin-deep. Now, my 9th standard science book had the outline of a man and a woman. Watching it gave me such a kick. I still remember, looking at the two hollow outlines for hours on end although our biology teacher Mrs. Anita always skipped that page and never explained the details.

Mrs. Anita was also too shy to tell me how a kid was born. So she assured us that the kid was a result of the marriage. I believed her, but there was always this question, as to how could circling a fire with the pundit chanting some mantras result a child.

Then, I was exposed to quite a few cute women who appeared on the cover of English magazine Femina which my mom used to buy from the neighboring aunty. They were seductive and bewitchingly pretty enough to disturb my young mind. I still remember tearing the cover pages and hiding them and telling mom that I accidentally used them to throw litter. Of course I was scolded a lot for that but for the cover of Aishwarya I could bear that any day. From then on mother stopped borrowing the magazines.

In the ninth grade ,I fell in love with Shruti Sinha. A pretty girl who would dance all Madhuri numbers at all functions and at the drop of a hat. I was in love with her. Just that she did not know. Then…or now.

Whenever, she stood close enough for me to latch on to a few atoms of the perfume she used, I would get a high. Was something wrong with me? Or was everybody experiencing the same emotions. I would never know, until….

In grade ten I lost my virginity, figuratively that is. On a weekend one of my best friend Sourav’s parents went out and he was going to make the most of it. He invited his closest of friends and I being the next door neighbor and the safe keeper of all his secrets including all the times he got scolded or beaten, or that he had soiled his pants when we went to Darjeeling, naturally I was part of his inner circle and got invited first.

He had already arranged for `The Cassette’ (CDs and DVDs were yet to come) and we were all excited.

When we landed at his house on the appointed day, the curtains were drawn, and there was loud music playing inside. I was told it was some lady called Madonna and it was the coolest album of the year. All I heard was a lady moaning all along as I could not follow English too well even back then. Even as I sat I felt a sense of guilt and excitement overcomes me. I was about to watch a porn movie. I never knew what it was but there were these scenes we were never meant to see. But that day I had decided to walk the dangerous path and I couldn’t afford to care.

Within minutes, I was watching the first blue film of my life. So were the 17 others in the room. Even today, when we meet Sourav’s parents, Mr & Mrs Sen, we have special regards for them. Now that Sourav is married I bless the child he would have.

Only one grudge, my ten year old cousin says he likes FTV.

Hair today gone tommorrow!!

To break this news on my blog and write a post on myself I prepared well this evening. Yes, I had to down five pegs of Smirnoff vodka. This is just the right amount not to slump into a slumber and dream that everything is all right as it used to be, neither am all conscious and self righteous. I can accept reality better when drunk and go about the self-flagellation.

Didn’t someone very famous….(sorry I am not able to remember his name now)…once say: “Alcohol dulls the pain.”

Ok, to all readers let me break the news first – I am losing hair and have lost a considerable amount to be true. So much so, now I do feel a lot lighter in the head even without a drink or a fag. Perhaps it’s not such good news for the lices that were once so secure in their impregnable nest above my neck but hey!! Nothing’s in life is permanent and especially not a house illegally occupied over somebody’s head.

A few days back my mom showed a recent photo of mine to my sweet little niece all of eight years and she asked if the picture was taken in autumn.

“The whole of South India has only two seasons dear– the summer & the rainy. No autumn over there,” Mom tried to explain.

“But then why has uncle shed so much and looks like the palm tree near the pond hit by lightning?” As soon as I heard this, I immediately cancelled the plan of taking her a gift next time I visited my sister. So much for being her favorite uncle. Humph…

Like I was saying, I am losing hair. Now you would say, why the hell get so insecure about it when most men get bald anyways. But this does bother me as it is completely new to my family. There are stories about my grandfather’s hair, which when told after a drink assumes immense importance.

Legend has it that he never ever went to a barber in his life. Instead he used to ask the gardener to shape the mane with his garden cutter. It’s also said that the hair once cut were sold to the fence maker and used as barbwire around the garden.

My father carried the same genes and hence ended up with real strong head and hair. When he joined the armed force, he never wore a helmet. Bullets would never be able to penetrate the bush anyways. On top of that he also had a readymade disguise with which he could disappear among bushes without a trace. The only catch was that he had to cut his hair only during fire practice or heavy enemy shelling. This way the whole cantonment was not disturbed.

Now, thanks to my hair-gel and experimentations with different shampoos, I have lost the family legacy and the crowning glory. I do wonder if it has to do with the 10 ml herbal shampoo bottles I have been stealing whenever I stayed in a hotel.

The day I negotiated and saved…

 

If you have ever lived in south India where there are no shared autos(That means you share the ride with other travellers and not split the auto u moron), you  probably know that travelling by autorickshaw is costlier than travelling by air. Maybe that’s because these are faster modes of transportation these days with no last minute cancellations.But actually the greatest thing about them is that they help you develop a holistic personality.(No…. i do not mean that you can become a holy or devine person by travelling by auto but rather you get physical as well as personality development at the same time.) Dont believe me?… Ok,Well just take an auto ride after the rainy season on any of Cochin roads, for that matter take a ride anywhere in India and you would see. The amount of exercise that all parts of your body gets is supposed to be equivalent to going to gym for 3 months. One of my friend lost 8 Kgs in a 2 hour ride. Its a different story that actually his artificial limb had flown away in all that jerking. But anyways…. apart from the physical benefits one also gets trained in the art of negotiation and gets street smart just like me. Believe me am much smarter on the street than i was at school, college or am at office. The important thing is that ones who travel by auto are not turned into whimps pampered by their airhostesses running behind them wiping their dripping nose and spilled coffees. The auto travellors are real men who can survive anywhere in the world. But for all this i must thank the auto drivers who make this possible.

The following post is dedicated to these wonderfull drivers who have helpded me hone my negotiation skills and their driving skills that have given me this wonderfull body which even the bollywood actors draw inspiration from.(Ouch my back’s hurting).

 

The following incident happened few months back when i was in Cochin. I was almost late for office and hence contemplating taking an auto.There were 3 autos standing at the stand and 2 drivers were missing and one who was present was sitting comfortably smoking scissors sitting on the back seat ,with his legs stretched up.  

(Now as i approached him,  i remembered my friend Rajeev’s  warning about these  auto drivers. I remember him saying ” Abhishek … always remember, act as Romans when in Rome else the Roman auto drivers take extra money”. But even though i was not in Italy i remembered the warning and decided to play it safe.So, I decided to  disguise as a local mallu. No …I did not change into a mund( a traditional wear like lungi) and grow a heavy moustache (there was no time for that). But I gathered all the Malayalam vocabulary that I could recollect and stepped forward.

 

Me: (In my best Malayalam) Chetta…. Pua?

Translation:(Will u go brother?)

 

The driver looked at my direction a bit irritated as if I disturbed his meditation.

( I tried to look cool as a cucumber or rather a stale sambhar not giving away that I was not an authenticate mallu.)

 

Driver: Evide Pua? (Translation:Where to?)

(Wow … so he understood what I had said .. that meant I was speaking alrite…But now this was getting tricky as I was fast exhausting my limited vocabulary of Malayalam and hence was on the verge of blowing my cover. Yes!!! those who still didn’t get it , I know only two lines in Malayalam apart from some explicit bad languages which I did not intend to use at the moment)

 

Me: Willingdon  Island Pua?

(I held my breath praying that he doesn’t stretch the conversation any further.)

He looked curiously at me for sometime then he looked at his watch and then at the sky to check in the horizon as if I had asked him to take me for a voyage to the end of this world. Thankfully, he signaled me to get in, which I obligingly did.

 

We reached office in 20 minutes and as I got down, I  started my second round of bluffing by using my second and last line of Malayalam language I knew.

 

Me: Ethra chetta?(Translation: How much brother?)

Driver: Rs 120.

Me : 120??….(Now I was in a fix, for the meter showed 45 Rs and here if i changed my language to argue, he would know am not a malayali.)

 

Me: But Chetta …. Meter ..only  Rs 45. I tried pointing out and with my last effort to keep my cover of defence intact.

 

Driver: Its 9 A.M.

Now what does 9 a.m has to do with double rate. Was he charging night rates as per New York time ? Maybe his meter was made in U.S? Whatever !!….I was not going to give in so easily. “To hell with being local”, I thought .He was fleecing me anyways so I switched to English.

 

Me: Oh! So do you always charge more than double at 9 A.M or is it todays current market rate? (I asked fearing he might be tracking global inflation rates or maybe auto meters are somehow linked to the Sensex. You never know as Kerala is supposed to be the most literate state I had heard or read somewhere 100 % some say.)

 

Driver: No Saar, There was too much traffic on M.G road at this hour.

 

Me: But you took the shortcut through Thevara. There was no traffic through that route.

Driver: But sir, if there were no traffic at M.G Road i would have taken that route and since there is traffic there i saved your time by taking the shortcut but i cannot lose money for that.

 

(Ahhh  Now I was beginning to see his logic. So he has actually saved my time for which he is charging a little extra, but being a hard bargainer that we Basu’s  are, I was in no mood to let go without getting some discount.)

 

Me: Ok but why more than twice? Just because its 9 A.M?

 

Driver: But I have to charge you for the return fare too

 

Me: Now… Why the return fare?

 

Driver: Because you would not go back with me and there is no guarantee that I get customer from here?

(Now just think of that… Deccan Air charging double the fare just because you chose to fly to patna to ensure they return full. How blasphemous of an idea would that be!. I had to protest against this.

Me: Why should I guarantee that?

 

Driver: Because you made me come here, that’s why.

(Now this was getting too far, he was getting an upperhand , so I tried reasoning one more time..)

 

Me: And what if you do get passengers while returning

 

Driver: Simble Saar… I won’t take the passenger unless he pays me extra for violating the rule.

Enough was enough now … i was losing my cool now … more so because i had not taken a bath since i got late but thats not the point.

I decided to walk the wild  side now. I can  really do that you know… Once i got so mad that i walked straight into the thorn bushes behind our house in Chapra. The rest of the day mom had to sit and pick out all the thorns from my sweater and scartch my back as there were lots of poison ivies there.

I shouted on him “There is noway i am giving you more than 45 Rs to you and thats final”.

 

What happened after that is not much to write about as he spoke in Malayalam and i did not understand a single word.To spite him i spoke back in Bengali. Anyways he agreed to take 110 Rs and return without any passenger.

 

As I entered  my office after giving him Rs 110 and all the malayalam explicit words i knew i ran into my friend Vivek and he told that he had also taken auto as he wanted to come early but had to pay Rs 150 for that.

 

I went on with my work feeling triumphant about saving Rs 40 that day…