More sex please ! We are Indians !!

I have this friend from IIT who was one of the drivers in starting my blog. He has been giving me valuable inputs and had been instrumental in improving the aesthetics of the blog.

He is a brilliant statistician and now and then keeps quantifying and educating me about the readers response. He had this interesting piece of statistics.

The maximum response I get is either when I write about humor or sex. The next one is movies and then cricket. He asked me what did I infer? Well I am appalled!!!!!! Sex and humor? What am I supposed to infer? He cheekily advised write more about sex since you definitely have a poor sense of humor and your knowledge about movies is pathetic.

He did have a point. But I am no Prakash Kothari. Nor a dirty minded Khushwant Singh.

Also, he had this interesting piece. The guys visiting my blog from Pakistan invariably reached there by googling sex! wow!and I thought that i had a cross border appeal a la Sania Mirza!

In Togo, I once saw a lot of blue films selling on the street. My interpreter with a twinkle in his eyes told me that yes the kids buy them a lot. What! Kids! He looked at me strangely. “ yes. What would adults do with them. Sex is something you do. Not watch!”
I felt like I was in the august presence of a sex guru.

As a natural corollary I may add its something you do. Not read.

But the statistics cannot lie. Does it mean we have more sex between our ears than between our legs.? I don’t have the faintest clue.

Have you heard about Banta singh whose son came up with two sheets of paper and asked him, “ Dad, I want to know about sex.”

Banta Singh thought its high time I perform my paternal duty. Patiently, He brought a Barbie doll and a male toy and took two hours explaining as lucidly as he could.

The young boy scratched his head and asked, “ How do I write all that you explained. There are only two choices Male/ Female.” It was an application for summer hobbies workshop.

Won’t I end up being a muddle head like Banta Singh. I am lost.

My British friend is amused. “ Why are you surprised coming from the land of Kamasutra and a billion people.” Oh yeah loser. Cricket originated in your country and does it surprise you how well you play?

Wise cracks notwithstanding, I am still ignorant.

From the younger days of “ No sex please we are British” to my older days of “ More sex please we are Indians,” life has come a full circle for me.

The question remains. Is Sex a three lettered dirty word or the three lettered sure shot ( as the scholarly IITian puts it ,‘Hit’.

Any erudite help?

Corporate Memories- Narayan Murthy and ME!!

The pre monsoon showers flattered to deceive.Its hot as hell's kitchen here.My lima bean sized brain refuses to work.
In the last post, I was complimented more for a post written a year back.I am tempted to, therefore, reproduce another one. This was dated April 21, 2009.

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


I had a long and illustrious corporate career. You could bracket me right up there with the great Narayan Murthy.

We both were men of vision. While I don’t know his , mine was called long sightedness.

I use the past tense because Narayan Murthy is now the Ex CEO and I am also leading an almost retired life. I see myself as the Matthew Hayden of Corporate world. A great career abruptly cut short!

We were great motivational speakers( No not Mathew Hayden. He suffered from a large foot in a larger mouth syndrome. I am talking about Narayan Murthy)
We could motivate the listeners to aim higher heights.

Again I don’t know about him, but I remember when I once spoke, one of my juniors suddenly climbed right up the chimney. He claims he went to help a cat. But my detractors say it was my boring speech.
Jealousy is as old as civilization. We cant do anything about it.

And we both have great bank balances. I can walk through all the zeros with him.
And that would be almost a mile I am sure. Not bad you will agree. Even walking 80% of his balance is not a mean achievement.

Now what separates him and me? Well , two things. One the government has appreciated his contribution and awarded him the Padma Award. And two he wrote a book.

I will receive the padma award next year. The MP from the chambal ravines has it worked out. He is sure that UPA or NDA with 20 coalition partners and 12 outside support will still need one independent to form a government. The third fourth and fifth front will have the same predicament. Only the permutations and combinations will change. But he will be the tilt. No one can ignore him. So as he becomes the Defence Minister, I get my reward for loyalty to him.

In case you have wrong ideas about me, this dacoit was habilitated by the Arjun singh Government and now sells milk in our colony. We have been buying from him for the last 18 years.

So now what remains is that small thing of writing a book. And then I am in the same hall of fame.

My Book is ready for release.

Like all great writers, I release a few excerpts from my memoir before it is printed. It has various chapters providing an insight into my multifarious talent in handling various departments. This one is the heart of the business: Finance.


THE FINANCE WIZARD:

I was so involved with work that the boundaries of office and home diffused and there wasn’t much difference between office and domestic work which the colleagues did with equal enthusiasm. My eyes moist as I remember the delicious biryanis that my colleague cooked. Not for nothing was he awarded the best worker of the month.

We faced a lot of challenges during my turbulent years. But I was always there, the captain of the ship, an embodiment of corporate leadership.

There was this time when we had a difficult client who after a lot of threatenings and proddings gave us a cheque. The accountant took the cheque home promising to drop it in the bank on his way to the office the next day. We celebrated our great achievement. $40,000!!!!!!

Imagine the next day when we got a sheepish accountant with the remnants of the cheque which his dear son and his dearer dog used instead of the ball and now was only 1/10th of the original left the other 9/10th safely in the pet’s stomach I presume. Well you win some and lose some. Narayan Murthy will agree. What was important was the team work and the satisfaction of achieving the impossible.

Once I remember there was a cheque from another very difficult client lying on the table waiting to be deposited the next day. A junior brushed it aside as the customary beers and chicken nuggets arrived.

Now beer for a human body is like gas for a car. It triggers the right buttons and the human body can work with amazing speed.

And so one enthusiastic co-worker cleaned the table and threw the leftovers in the trash bag. The soiled envelope carrying the cheque also went with it. The other one with lightning speed went out and threw it in the dumpster.

When I remembered it the next day I phoned all my colleagues and we all rushed to the dumpster. It stood regally , in all it splendour a good 7 feet tall.
We had a hurried brain storming and we all agreed.
The decision was unanimous as usual. i ordered and they agreed. like the congress party.

I feel humbled.

KK was the tallest one. Unfortunately he was the heaviest too. He had to be lifted so he could reach inside the dumpster. I reminded all that we were team players and this was team work.

But trust me it isn’t easy to be gentle when you are dealing with some one that fat.

So this push became a mighty shove as 4 pair of enthusiastic hands gave his massive butt a propeller thrust. We screamed with delight as he plonked inside like a rocket on fire , his glasses flying and face into a pepperoni pizza , some one’s leftover dinner, and his hand clutching the ubiquitous cheque.

Team work can do wonders!

East met West and an ardent vegetarian got converted into an ardent non- vegetarian.

I look back with pride many such achievements. Space is short and the achievements many.

My steps may seem radical but they were effective.

That is what the leaders are supposed to do. Provide stellar leadership.

Like me and Narayan Murthy.

Amen!

( Three months after release : My book is next to ‘ what they don’t teach you at Harvard’ on the best sellers list)

Mere Paas ........Baap hai!

I jumped as the phone rang shrilly. It was onal asking for her dad. “ Happy Father’s day dad.” She wished her dumbstruck dad with an expression which you would have if you saw an alien and wouldn’t know what to do or say. He mumbled something incoherently and kept the phone down.

“ what does this mean?”. He was kind of bewildered. He is still trying getting used to all the spate of Days. ( he enquired if there was a mother-in-law day too? I said I will check next time I am in Archies. Bet they do!!)

Again he had one more question. “ will Yugesh call?”

I thought about it. “ When did you recharge his ATM Card?”

“ Day before”

“ well I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

My brother grinned. “ me too.”

Now Yugesh may treat his father as an ATM but I wonder if all his frequent trips to the ATM would remind him of Father's day!Fat chance. when you are hungry and withdrawing money the only picture that comes to mind is that of a chicken as in
" Chicken Biryani".

I can imagine a red faced Yugesh calling angrily. “ I don’t call only when I need money. what about that call when I needed a cover for my ipod? Or when I need a new battery for my mobile? You guys unnecessarily malign me.” Point to be noted.

Well a father has never been given his due. Granted I am not a movie buff, but still I could barely remember one dialogue about father. “ Rishtey main to hum tumhare baap lagte hain.” And only one song , “ Papa kehte hain” maybe because the kid barely ever gets to listen to his papa’s voice. How on earth would he know what are his father’s views?

I was thinking about writing a tribute to my father. But a young reader pointed out that I have almost written all I can about him. Would I have anything new to say? I guess not.

I had only one father and he didn’t have nine lives. So I take his advise and simply print the link to one of my earlier tributes.

hamarichaupal.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-dad-with-love.html

All you young fathers. Don’t crib that your kids neglect you or don’t care for you. doesn’t matter if he lives with you. doesn’t matter if you daily share the same breakfast table. But if you want to connect with him, dont look at his mother; Look at your lap top instead.

No point in trying to talk , spare your breath, instead get on the facebook, use sms , join twitter. Learn the high fives, lol when you want to laugh, try being them. They are not bad kids. Its just that their way of expressing love has changed.

They may not have time to write eulogies like me, but they too care. If you ever get a single sms or twitter mentioning you are kool, take a printout , frame it and keep it on your office table. Your son has given you the biggest compliment. !!!!!!!

For the more sentimental kind of you, Here’s Keith Urban singing “ Song for Dad”

Mithun Da Rocks!

I get recurring nightmares of the shrill and grating Jayanti Natarajan trying to break glass with her screeching. We cant really blame her. she is trying to defend the indefensible. When logic or arguments fail, the only thing left is to try and shout down the voices of reason.

How can any one defend Rajiv Gandhi in the fleeing of Warren Anderson? If the news that it was Ronald Reagen who put pressure on the Indian government is true, then even a five year old can tell you that when the President of America calls he doesn’t speak to the collector of Bhopal.

The average congressman is smart. He knows that the only way to survive is to defend the Palace. Doesnt matter if you sound absurd.Doesnt maater that the reasoning is foolish. You should be heard defending the Family. You will be rewarded.

It could have been funny if only it wasn’t so tragic. So many people’s life was destroyed. Even today many are still suffering. But politicians bank on amnesia. The memory of Indian public is short lived. Confuse them, delay by setting enquiries and consign it to the dustbin. All this ofcourse with the help of a very pliable English media.

Its so pathetic, I have stopped watching the news.

So these days I am trying to look at some of the entertainment on offer. Its been a while.
I miss ‘ Two and a half men’. Hope some day star world brings ‘ still standing’ another very hit show in the USA.May not be as successful as 'Friends' but then friends are made once in a life time.


There are three shows eminently watchable on TV.

While I am no big fan of daily soaps, I am drawn to the irresistible ‘ Balika Badhu’. The story may be weak but it’s the acting. Every one is giving a powerpacked performance. Specially the old lady. Hats off to the director for choosing a cast which is very credible. Not one of them is overacting. A must watch.

For those who understand marathi, there is a serial called ‘ Anubandh’ ( contract)which deals with the complications of surrogacy. A childless couple opt for surrogacy. The serial deals with the complications that come in the life of the childless couple and the girl who accepts to become the surrogate mother because of money. Her boy friend accepts her but is unable to accept the interference of the real father who is drawn to the child. Both the families suffer immensely because of it. It is a very convincing story with very brilliant acting. It can happen to anyone.

Wish the national television could come up with such wonderful serials instead of the annoying soaps with conniving women dressed as peacocks and rich and stupid men.

The third and my favorite show is a dance competition by kids choreographed by some very talented dancers from the senior competition. The kids are simply amazing and some of the choreography is breath taking.

But the icing on the cake is Mithun Da, the star of yesteryears. Whoever said that stars of yesteryears fade gradually. This one seems to be reinventing himself like another star of yesteryears, Anil Kapoor. He is like old wine. Seems to get better with age.

I remember a few years Mithun came with a movie called ‘ Gunda’. A friend from IIT recommended it. Its grown into a cult movie with lots of websites dedicated to it. The ratings as far as I remember in the IMdb was never below 9. It was the whackiest and senseless movie ever made. All the actors speak in couplets with double entendres.

Very few people know that Mithun started his career with a national award in ‘ Mrigya’.
He won the award three times. He later became popular for his dancing.

However , we knew him more as an actor of B grade movies that did more business in the smaller towns and villages.

But his presence in this show changes that.

Just when everyone thought the his career , he comes up with this brilliant show DID where he is the super judge. He is dapper, compassionate, discerning and funny with a very keen eye. I was impressed when the two judges had almost rejected one girl. He differed and said that she is a class. Wait for her in solos. Surely when she came alone, she simply dazzled.

The kids enjoy him as much as he enjoys with the kids.

Sample one below and see the standard. Probably one of the most romantic choreography ever seen. Outstanding.

We must surely thank him for producing such a brilliant show and setting the bar so high.

Way to go Mithun Da.

Football time Folks!

So finally Nadal proved that he is the king of clay. I am very happy for him because he is my favorite player. I not only like his tenacity and fighting spirit but also his humility.

There was a whiff of disappointment too as Leander Paes lost the doubles. A time was when we were happy to see our players reach the quarter finals. But Mahesh and Leander changed that.

A few days back I was chatting with Yugesh and casually asked him what was he doing. Downloading the world cup anthem.

So now the focus is truly and totally on football. Unfortunately the World cup always overlaps my another favorite tournament , the Wimbledon. I always had a hard time keeping awake watching both the tournaments.

My all time favorite was Stefan Edberg. I am yet to see any one so elegant on the grass. I hardly remember a tournament of his which I missed. Tim Henman , another elegant player never played to his potential. we called him Tiger Tim. But all he did was purr like a cat much to our disappointment. But i would still watch him play any day. what elegance! totally sublime.

My mother hated both the tournaments because they were always transmitted at night. we used to have our classes the next day. Luckily we had a very sporting Dad. So we all sneaked into the drawing room and watched these games carefully closing the doors, switching off the lights and keeping the volume to a minimum only to find mother knocking the door with steaming tea.

There were many stand out moments etched in my mind. Maradona and his hand of God. The Colombian player who was shot in his own country because of a self goal which cost their team the loss and so many others.

Later I moved to UK and saw the madness there. football is almost like a religion there. The football players are almost like god. But their fans can be a real pain. Football hooliganism is something that always scared me.

I was on my way to Belfast, Liverpool had reached the finals of the Euro. The police force at the Manchester airport was seen to be believed. there were liverpool shirts everywhere. The police just watced.There were drunken fans everywhere. it looked as if there were riots. Luckily noting untoward happened.

Another time I was mistaken by some rowdy fans in a hotel for the manager and showered abuses. Not their fault though. who wears a suit on a weekend. But i was coming from an event. However they soon redeemed themselves by offering me a pint of beer. A tempting offer but one look at them, i decided to take a rain check!

once as I was buying my train ticket from London to Manchester , the garrulous officer asked me which team I supported. I was smart by now. Chelsea I said. “ Good. If you had said Man united I would have charged you two pounds more.” He said. “ well so its true what I heard.” I said. “ that Chelsea fans are stupid. How did you expect me to live in Manchester and not support my home team.” I smiled wickedly. He pretended as if he was taking my picture. “ Beware the next time.” He laughed.

This time my money is on England ( Oh yes! Rooney , Gerrard , Lampard could be any better! ), Brazil, Spain and Argentina. England team has, Like Tim Henman , has always underperformed on the big stage. Hope this time they banish the ghosts.

I love Shakira. But waka waka is a let down. Agreed her signature hip shakes are there. but the song lacks vigour.


Using the Football analogy , I feel we were kicked hard by the Union Carbide.
I bow down with shame at the worst capitulation by the Indian Government in the Bhopal Gas tragedy. Its worse than freeing Quatrocchi. How low can this government go?

While a lot of bloggers are freely using President Obama’s “ Kick their ass” generously, they fail to understand that its his ass if he fails to kick the BPs. Can we say the same thing about Manmohan Singh’s?

My Thoughts go out to the poor people of Bhopal.

A spark neglected ...

2am. There is a short circuit. The sparks burn the paper plates and cups in the chat market which in turn account for the cylinder blast. Within a few hours the Victoria market, the largest books and stationary market in Gwalior is burnt to char. Sad indeed. Along with the loss to the property, we have lost a great Monument. The Victoria market was built in 1905. It carried a lot of history. The duke of wales gave his first press conference from this building.

The collector has declared that the building is now unfit for use and shall be developed as a heritage building.A very sensible move.It is indeed a heritage building.

But something has to be done to rehabilitate the shops as soon as possible.I am sure with the new school session, there is going to be a shortage of books, notebooks and other stationary.

I remember going to the Victoria market as a school boy. No visit was complete without the mandatory aloo tikiya. It wasn’t just a gastronomical delight. It was a visual delight too as the cook expertly fried many tikias at a time and when ready used to throw it high in the air and catch it in the leafy dona. I grew up watching it with a mischievous prayer to see him miss the target. But it never missed. He too smiled at us when he saw us. we used to try diverting his attention. But the guy was a pro.

After the chat we drank thick mango shake. I still feel that apart from Haji Ali in Mumbai, no other place could serve such thick and tasty shakes. The taste of the shake was enhanced by the dollop of cream on it. Those were the carefree days when calorie count was not in our dictionary.

It was only after we were full did we enter the market. The book shopping took lesser time than the eating. The same shopkeeper had supplied me books from my school till the engineering. The guys in the market were smart. They had all the books for various branches neatly stacked. I can bet that the shopkeeper’s knowledge of the authors and the books matched the professors. All you had to tell them was your professor’s name and he would come out with the books. If you were short of money, never mind. Take the book and pay later.

But by second year, Nayi sarak in New Delhi replaced our old fashioned Victoria market. It wasn’t that the books weren’t available. It was just an excuse for us to go and have fun in the glamorous and attractive capital.

So the chaat was replaced by the succulent stuffed malai parathas of the parathe wale in chandni chowk or fish pakoras in karim hotel in jama masjid , old delhi for lunch and a milk shake in the nirulas in CP.

Later when my dad expired, I came to know that it was the one place to get everything required for the thirteenth ceremony.

I was walking out straight from the pooja and was wearing a dhoti and a shawl. My head tonsured. As I walked through the narrow lanes inside the market, people mistook me for a swami. Folded hands, bent heads, we were given way. My friend whispered that if ever I was jobless, this could be an alternate source.It may seem an insensitive remark. But my friend is one of the most caring guys in the world.It was his way of alleviating the pain and diverting attention.

There was a small cloth market right at the entrance.Even it has been charred beyond recognition.

All these memories remind me of the glory of that forgotten market. I feel guilty. Its been almost a decade since I visited it. Now street eating is almost scandalous. I have left college long back.Besides, the shopping malls in our area has made bada almost redundant.

The authority has offered some compensation to the beleaguered shopkeepers.I am not sure if it is enough. But a large part of the history of the city has burnt to ashes yesterday. The loss is incalculable. Bada will lose some of its majesty. Wish I had taken some photographs.

I remind myself. I must visit the forgotten parts of the city at least once again.

In the French open season, the Congress plays' The Italian open'

Never mind it’s the French Open. Never mind that it’s the most open of open tournament. All the top guns are out. Federer out, Djokovic out, Henin, the William sister, Sharapova out. Should be the most exciting open.

Not really when more exciting things are happening back home. It is the Italian open. And when we say Italian , mama mia only one name comes to mind.

First the rules. There are no rules. And no upsets. The star has to win anyway. She doesn’t even have to play. She gets to watch the game, referee and clap while her ball boys run around picking balls which really should be hanging somewhere else!

What’s interesting about it? Well! the way the game is played and how the unforced and forced errors are declared as winners. We dumb people have to just switch on our ACs, push back our chairs, grab our pop corns and applaud every winner.

You heard of Rajneeti. I mean the movie. Ninety percent yes. And the red saree? Ninety percent no. The lucky ones are people like me who read Shobhaa De’s Blog regularly. (Its a Book, a novel in fact, in spanish on .....yes you guessed right! Sonia Gandhi)
She had visited Italy last month and already warned all to grab their copies before it was banned. What a star! She deserves more respect than all the sting operators combined!

Enough of Rajneeti. Every one knows about the arm twisting and the way some words were censored. Shouldn’t the chairman of the censor board, the dimpled Sharmila Tagore go back to acting since she really doesn’t have to do much anyway. Are we really proud of our democracy? wouldn’t be a good investment to send tickets of ‘ The Queen’ to all these kill joys and educate them about the meaning of freedom of speech. Often friends accuse me of being partial to the English people. Here’s one reason why. This movie was not only released without a fuss in the UK but also went on to win critical acclaim and awards with the Buckingham Palace maintaining a dignified silence. no such luck here.

Well I guess that is too much of an ask for us poor brown, uneducated souls. We deserve to be censored.

Javier Moro is one happy man. His ‘ Red saree’ will soon be laughing its way to the bank thanks to the bulls in the party who charge when they see RED! In total honesty, it was a book, if the congress was smart, to leave it alone. There was nothing earth shaking in it. http://www.javiermoro.com/images/pdf_sari/The_Red_Saree.pdf

The Gandhis have more skeletons in their cupboards.


But it was bad publicity. It was highly embarrassing to hear Javier comment on the democracy in India. It’s a shame indeed. The Congress really does no favor to itself or the country by such stupid paranoia. India is a far more solid democracy than the perception created by such mindless acts.

We shall definitely have a new winner in the women’s singles in the French open. Raphael Nadal is still standing there between Robert Soderling and the crown.

But no such luck here. The only loosers are poor we. From the days of the ‘ andhi’ and ‘ kissa kursi ka’ things have changed much. have they?

Sex, sleaze and Godmen.

I was on the net around midnight when this message flashed on the news. “ Sri Sri Ravi Shankar escapes bid on life.” I felt at least there was one swami who followed his own preachings. The heading should have been “ Swamy follows his own art of living!”

But the genial swamy is not above a little showmanship. He said he forgave the gunman and invited him to his ashram only to embarrass himself when the DGP announced that the gun was shot not at him but between two rival camps. The gun was fired even after the convoy had left.

But seriously why should anyone want to kill a god man who says he is trying to bring happiness on people’s lives. If you don’t want to smile just go in a corner and sulk. Killing is definitely not an option.

But there is something about these swamis that they attract a lot of glamour, money and sex and finally get trapped in their own fame and get shot at. Remember the attempt on Sathya Sai Baba a few years back.

I find this whole swamy business in India very interesting and have done quite some research. It is interesting. They all attain fame, loads of money and live the life of a movie star. Somewhere they become trapped in their own aura and feel they are invincible. I mention only three. All these three are/were larger than life figures, have a very loyal and huge following. The strange part is that all have the following of very intelligent and highly educated followers. But when it comes to their respective swamis all rationality and commonsense goes for a toss. They act like dumb sheep.

Acharya Rajneesh, Sathya sai Baba and now Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ( the second sri is ostensibly to separate himself from the renowned sitarist). Each are such larger than life pictures , that they deserve a separate post each.

“ Sex to Salvation”. That was how I knew Acharya Rajneesh. He had more Rolls Royce than we could count. We were college students and sex definitely was a glue. But he was different. He made spiritualism interesting.He was the most flamboyant of the three and had a lot of foreigners as his disciples. The introduction of Sex in the drawing rooms discussions in the 70s was unheard of. He had very revolutionary ideas. Somehow it sounded very convincing from his mouth. His theory of libertine permissiveness immediately attracted the west and consequently became a big hit there. The young generation in India also was attracted. Sadly, As expected, his ashrams became havens for drugs and fre sex and soon became a big nusicance . BBC has done a beautiful documentary on this unique phenomenon. A must watch.

At the height of his fame, India today did a cover story on Sathya sai Baba, “ The test of Faith/ A god Accused. He was accused of being a psychopathic paedophile and there were shocking stories of serial abuses. But he had very powerful followers- Presidents, Prime Ministers, Civil servants. So expectedly this story was brushed under the carpet. He was said to bring out vibhuti, and rolex watches out of thin air which a prominent magician tried to prove as mere trick. But his blind followers never ever tried to analyse and nothing really stuck.

But he also does a lot social service. A 250 crore water project was a commendable job where even the government had failed. He also provides free heart surgeries in his hospitals. As a child I did attend a few of his bhajans and seen the frenzy and madness that went through the crowd. However, if he was really innocent, he should have come clean. India today is a reputed magazine and they had done their homework thoroughly. What followed from his followers were plain gibberish which couldn’t even be called rejoinders. If faith can turn people such, I am better off without it!

Now coming to Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. I find him the cleanest of all. His right hand men are from the IIT. I have exchanged emails with them and found them very warm and open. I read their blog regularly and it makes a very interesting read. They are not preachy, talk the youngsters’ lingo and are quite entertaining. They invited me to the ashram. I really liked them for their sense of humor. When I accepted his invitation and said that I would like to visit them once, he remarked that you can’t. and then with a smile , he added that people keep visiting again and again.

Maybe I shall visit them. only out of sheer curiosity though.

I write this post in the airconditioned comfort of the train, plugging the laptop into the power socket in the train. our trains have gone such a transformation.

The Kolkata municipal elections have been dubbed as their semifinals. I pray to god that Mamta Banerjee wins both the semi and finals. At least that way we shall have a whole time Railways Minister.

Our gain maybe Bengal’s Loss. But Bengal is doomed anyway. A choice between the communists and the TMC is hardly any choice!