Amitabh Bachchan's Middle finger salute

I felt smug. The Mister know it all. As soon as I saw the picture in today’s newspaper, I felt vindicated. There was Amitabh Bacchan with his wife, son and daughter-in-law giving the waiting reporters the middle finger salute.

Enough is enough. How could they harass him day and night and expect him to keep his cool? Agreed he is not a Greg Chappell. It comes naturally to an Australian.
After all the first thing an Australian baby does when he is born is to show his middle finger to his nurse.

But still a gentleman or no gentleman. There has to be a limit to his patience. They wrote so much rubbish about his daughter- in –law and his little man Friday, the multi talented and multi faceted Amar Singh!

So rubbing my hands with glee, I put on my glasses to read the news. I look at the picture once more.

But wait, why are they all smiling? It can’t be a rude gesture? The Americans use their middle finger more than their legs when they are driving. But then they never smile!!!

Then I had another brain wave. Maybe its one of Amar singh’s brilliant new idea. This picture may be his party’s manifesto? No one reads the manifesto any way. So perhaps, they could simply put this picture. After all an image is more than a thousand words.

If they planned to ban English and computers, what more effective way than this?
“ In your face , you urban voters! In your face !”

But no. Samajwadi party was a party of veterans . With Mulayam singh Yadav and Amar Singh at the helm, do they really need actors? They have been doing this to the Indian people for decades.

To solve this conundrum, I read the article.

It was the most benign thing that the great star could have ever done.

He had just voted and was showing his voting ink mark.

Trust the Election commission. We have five fingers and they had to select the middle finger to apply that innocuous mark!

What were they really thinking?

Now every celebrity who comes out, shows you the middle finger!

As they say, some things never change!

Fake IPL Player - The new entertainment icon.

Imagine a Cricket match report .
and there is no Sachin, No dravid , no ganguly.
Instead you have Little Monster, Peter ka beta , Lordie? flummoxed? It took me a while too. welcome to this bizarre world of Fake IPL player. someone who has taken the cricketing India by storm.

Guys, this was a totally unplanned post.I read about it in the TOI. But thought it was just another gossip.

But then i read his blog. He is an absolute cracker.

This is a total metamorphosis. Reverence and idolizing is tossed out of the window and sit forlornly in the dumpster.They are replaced by audacious fun making and playing to the gallery.

T20 was always like a one night stand.The wham bam thank you Mam variety. no one really takes it seriously.
So you read more about what is happening outside the field more than inside these days.

Lan Brian did the inside reporting with some success but with a lot of dignity. Fake player has shown the other way. and with loads of success.

The writer has attained an iconic stature. Must say he has a brilliant flair for writing and mixes facts and fictions in a very titillating way. For a tournament starved nation, I think he is more entertaining the tournament itself which has lost its zing after shifting from India. No country can match that zeal of India.

In one month his following has zoomed to about 4000. The nation is obsessed. Who is this mystery writer. It has become a national pastime it seems. His every word is being lapped up, every word being put under a scanner.

And he is hilarious. Take this for instance.The coach advising a player.Maybe he can improve a little batting, a little bowling and a little fielding.The strategy sessions are a must read. and so are the night lives of our high and mighty.

There is a paradigm shift in the way cricket is being played. IPL, good or bad, has changed the entire way cricket is viewed. It is almost an entertainment package with real cricket relegated to the background. It’s no more a game. It’s a circus.

Cheerleaders have taken the main stage and the eyeballs of the entire testosterone charged gen X. Loyalties are shifting more on the basis of the looks of the girls than on the players.

And now this blog. Cricket has a brand new avatar. He is to blogging what IPL is to cricket . Masala cricket has truly arrived.

This is absolutely scandalous. Nothing like this has happened to cricket writing before.

He is a brutal iconoclast.Doesnt respect anyone. And so we have new nicknames like Lordie and Dildo, and batlivala and appam ch#$%ya.

Good bye Sudoku.We Indians have a bigger past time. trying to solve the riddles of the nicks.

I am sure these names will stick long even after the tournament is over.

He is shredding reputations faster than a shredding machine.

There is a moral and a legal aspect. Is it ethical to do what he is doing? Can he be sued by the high and the mighty. Will it spawn a cult of insulting writings like what has happened with the shoe throwing incidents? If he is a real cricketer, which I doubt, is he hitting the last nail on his cricketing coffin?

Only time will tell. The experts are paid to postmortem. The Krishna Kanhaiyas- oops. I am going the fakeplayer’s way. I am already looking forward to all the condemnations by the stuffy, prudish pundits!

It too early to say if he manage his salacious reporting for long.

But For now- I am enjoying his wicked wicked pen!

A Date with Harvard

Prof H from Harvard sent this mail.

Dear Sudhir,

Nomoshkar.

Needless to tell you , I am in Kolkata, India and happily absorbing the brilliant sights and sounds of this wonderful city christened so aptly as ‘The city of Joy’ by Dominique Lapierre .

Every city has its own quirks - the x-factor. Kolkata ,delightfully, has its O factor.

We are enjoying our vacation here and as I am a student of oriental lingustics, I am learning bongoli with rosgollas and gosto errr gusto. The rosgolla helps in the correct pronounciation. I am addicted. its the best sweet i ever had. just like the lovely Bengalis. sweet and soft!
Even my wife now calls me Joson instead of Jason.
You can well say we have truly arrived.

Yesterday I was at the esplanade enjoying a warm cup of coffee and do what the Bhadraloks do best – Nothing. The bhadraloks are intellectuals. When these sweet people want to involve a larger audience to do nothing , they organize bandhs. I love them. Kolkata is a big talk shop. It reminds me of UN. And also Harvard.

But let me come to the point.

The guy on my next table was reading the newspaper to his bored audience when I heard the word Harvard. I jumped.

Now to me , vacation or no vacation, the mention of Harvard is like a pill of Viagra. No. I don’t recommend guys on Viagra to try this.

As they say each man to his own brand of poison!

So I requested the kind man to allow me to read that particular news. And the gracious man offered me the whole paper.

I was done in by the o factor. It was a news about the Howrah and not Harvard. A man tried to commit suicide as his wife fried a hilsa instead of a pomfret.
A man of fine tastes and principles I must admit. What passion. I am charmed.

And it was then I saw you by accident. Just like Columbus discovered America!

There was a small letter to the editor almost at the end of the paper. It was by an agitated proud Indian who felt that they must ban your book. Else organize a bandh in protest. They felt that you were insulting the name of India and the revered Harvard both ( your book it seems, was sitting next to the almighty Harvard. Or what they don’t teach there).



So I got curious but I couldn’t find your book anywhere. It wasnt sitting anywhere!

Finally I got hold of it. How , that’s another story. But I must say it was real bad.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know India is the land of education. You had Nalanda and Takshila which were venerable educational insituitions and were thousands of years old. But I am sure you weren’t the fortunate one who went there. hehe.

Well I am appalled. You need a proper education.

Being a professor has some privileges.

I can recommend eminent people for honorary doctorates. And I can recommend people like you to one of our courses.

I first thought of recommending Mr. Narayan Murthy, your hero for a doctorate. But the Cornell University has already conferred him with a Ph.D.

Besides, I think looking at the future, perhaps, it would make more sense to educate you.

We can discuss this offer in details.

Please check your diary and let me know your availability.

Regards

Prof. H.


I was excited. Started looking in orbitz, expedia and cheaptickets. Harvard wow. Finally someone has realized my worth.

But alas, today I got a call from McDonald. They need my services badly. For flipping burgers.

I thought of all the hungry people in India. and my heart melted.

If they need me, they sure get me.

After all leaders can shine anywhere.

Like me and Narayan Murthy.

Its not the size of the canvas, but the strokes of the brush that creat a master piece.

So Harvard’s Loss is McDonald’s gain.

The academia lost to the Corporate world once again.

and so , My Corporate memories continue.

Corporate Memories - The fan mail

Greatness sits prettily on only a chosen few. Like me and Narayan Murthy. We wade across the swamp of life with rare equanimity.

And this sereneness came to my rescue when I was torpedoed by not one, not two but three Narayan Murthys. Those were the only fan mails I got yesterday.

I checked if they came from Taliban or Iraq. No they were Indians.

The language was evil. Even Salman Rushdie would have been proud to receive them.

Some people live in the reflected glory of their last name. like the Gandhis. They do not have to toil like us mortals. Greatness is thrust on them. They do not have to bust their ass.

Unlike me and Narayan Murthy.

But still they are only half blessed. They only carry the last name.

Now consider this triumvirate. They carry not just the last famous name. but the first name too. In our brand obsessed country , they are like the Ferraris of human beings.

And so, like us being more British than the British, these denizens of a charmed club were more offended than the real one. The vintage Ferrari.

My protestations went unheeded as I pleaded helplessly that he is my hero. That he is just a metaphor. That I am a member of his fan club. That check my orkut profile. Until I ran out of excuses and was left muttering that I , that I, that I.

But in their fury they hurled invectives in chaste kannada (or was it Telugu ) forgetting that it was like hurling a bouncer at Sachin Tendulkar.

But we writers are vain. A little flattery is enough to restore our equilibrium. And it makes flattery that more flatterered ( God I have lived in Bush’s country for too long. I have even absorbed his language skills by osmosis) if it comes with a little flutter of doe eyes and if there's a dainty damsel at the end of that syrupy, sugary dulcet voice.

OK you kill joys!. Don’t ask how I saw the flutter and how I heard the dulcet tone.

I know it wasn’t a cam, just an email.

But I am the one who is writing and so please allow me some poetic license, will you!

This mail has brought back the spring in my feet. Ah! The sky is once again deep blue, the grass is that much greener and life is on a roll.

Think of the joy on Rahman’s face when he held the Oscar.

The eternal joy of being a writer. The captain of a pirated ship is being asked to recount his tales of heroics. Feel the bliss.


And so dear readers, tomorrow with a bow and a flourish , I present with the part two of my best seller, My Corporate Memories – Back Bone of the company - HR.
( needless to say And my pioneer leadership in handling it. )

and oh! there was this mail from some professor from some harvard or something. maybe i can print it some day. today its just the nightingale singing!

As they say leaders are not made; they are born.

Like Me and ………………… you know who.


( Guys, thanks a lot for all your great mails. I am truly honored. Please keep them coming!)

Corporate Memories- Narayan Murthy and ME.

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)

I am the Rock Star of Internet

I love French. And I love my translator.
It makes ordinary people like me look special – a la Ordinaire.
You would think I am being praised.
My blogging skills in French are ‘Extra Ordinaire’.( close your eyes and imagine a pretty mademoiselle pouting sexily, the words dripping in honey. Mm I love it. She can even call me a swine!)
Translated in simple English it is ‘Very Ordinary’!
I hate English. Or when translated by a French.

But more power to internet. It makes even poor ole me feel like a rock star. Just have a look at the Live feed. Damn! I am being read in 20 countries!!! And my English teacher felt that I couldn’t write one sentence without 20 mistakes! Bless her soul. She must be dead and gone. I wish she was alive. I miss that perverse pleasure. Seeing her confess she was wrong! i would have asked her to write that 20 times!

And my geography teacher! he thought i couldnt read 20 countries. Now there are 20 countries where people read me!
( or honestly whatever they do in my blog. I know half of them cant read English.)


That is the power of internet. It makes everyone feel good. I feel I know shakira more than my neighbor. After all I watch her shaking her hips more times in a day than I see my neighbor’s fat ass in a fortnight.

Learning Spanish is much easier while watching her.

como se llama, si, bonita, si mi casa.

Till now I thought that I was the most unemployed guy in the world. But looking at these sad people I wonder what is happening? Are they so bored with life.
This is like taking masochism to an entirely new level. What on earth would an Moroccan find interesting on my blog.

I would be worried,though, if there was someone from Kazakhstan. But no. Borat is not planning to abduct any Katrina kaif. He prefers buxoms like Pamela Anderson to our anorexic kudis. Paint Mumbai red. Katrina. You have nothing to fear.

No Italian either. I know they are chivalrous. You can’t offend an Italian signora and expect them to forgive you. Even if she lives in India.

Two Pakistanis, one from Islamabad and one from Karachi are my daily visitors. I feel like I got a shot of steroids. I am winning friends from across the border with my languid prose. wow. my pen is mighty.
Till I notice they come always through my post
“ sex , slum dogs and valentine.” Sickos.

We expect love from our neighbors but of a more different kind.

I call my friend happily and tell him about my popularity. He sniggers. He has visitors from 32 countries. I am appalled ? frothing and incoherent , I mumble , why , how , when?
Kool as cucumber he responds , “ I been unemployed for more time than you”.
Welcome to the club. 20 is the bare minimum to join.

Of Dogs, cats and other animals

Last evening I forgot it was Easter. I was kicking myself as I returned from the gym. Recession has made me stingy and now I count every mile that I travel.

As I came and parked my car, still surly, the neighbor’s pug saw me and before his owner could react he jumped out of her lap and came rushing to me. He reminds me of the Hutch advertisement. In his excitement he scratched me on my hands and kissed me all over. His owner apologized for the scratches. She didn’t have time to take him for clipping his nails she murmured.

I had to thank him and his owner for bringing the smile back on my face.

My community is a dog lover’s paradise. We have a terrier, a bull dog, a chihahua ( hope I got the name correct), a boxer and a german shepherd. These are my immediate neighbors. All in all perhaps there may be over 100 dogs in the whole community. Ours is a very large community. It is a joy to see them take their walk in the evening with their proud owners.

I once had a very funny experience. Coming from Amsterdam, the lady behind me was non stop praising the baby in her basket. She was like oh look at his eyes. Look how cute he is sleeping. Have you seen such a baby before. He cannot stay without an a/c blah blah. I thought she had kidnapped Angelina Jolie’s kid. Nosey that I am,I pretended going to the loo and stole a glance in the basket’s direction. There lay a week old Lhasa Apso , sure enough the cutest puppy I had ever seen. Luckily her co- passenger hated dogs. So we exchanged seats.
The lady and I are now very good friends. Thanks to the cute puppy.

The British on the other hand love cats. If you are walking down an alley, it isn’t uncommon for a cat to come and nuzzle.

Two Indian students were doing masters and lived next door. One of them used to work in McDonalds. He used to go by bus. But since he was late, he requested the other one, who had a car , to drop him. As he was about to start a cat crossed him. Now this boy believed that it was a bad omen and refused to budge till another car passed. And it was a very chilly morning. So the street was absolutely empty. It was hilarious the way they argued even the next day.

Once I learnt the hard way how smart the village kids are. We were going by car from Gwalior and had a flat tyre on the way. Luckily it was near a village. The kind hearted sarpanch invited us in for tea while the tyre was being repaired. I was taking pictures when his young grandson asked me if I would like to take the picture of Ganga, their cow. He lead me to the shed and as I went in told me that he was closing the door so she wont rush out. As I was adjusting the focus the brat warned, “ Bachna Uncle, Ganga ko seeng marne ki adat hai.” ( careful uncle, the cow charges with its horns.)

Imagine my plight as I saw the cow attack. Thank God his grandpa was agile enough to rescue me.


Tanmay is famous for making outrageous demands. He is my friend’s six year old and I his favorite victim. One day he suddenly demanded that he wanted fish as his pet and that too NOW!!!!!. I had a hard time searching for the fishes and an aquarium. Finally we settled for a small bowl with three very lovely fishes. We promptly christened them as Goldy, Blackey and Chandni. No rocket science why!!!!!

I loved to see the smile on his face. it just wouldn’t stop. Every day his mom had a hard time waking him up. But now he promptly woke up to feed them. On return from school, he would eat right in front of them telling them whatever happened at school.

On his birthday , tragedy struck!!!!

He invited all his friends for a party. The kids took to the fishes at once. A shy kid stole a piece of cake and some morsels of samosa and fed them when no one was watching. And at night all the three were as dead as only dead fishes can.

Luckily he was tired and slept early and the next day was Sunday so he was allowed to get up late. We went to the market and replaced the fishes. But the kid is smart. Not for nothing were they his pets. He knew each and every contour of the fishes. He was totally silent when he saw them. We were toughening ourselves for trouble.

And then he beamed.
He asked if the fishes looked weak because they skipped vegetables.
Eureka. We found our escape. And my friend gave him a big lecture on what happens when you don’t eat spinach.

Now the kid has a new hero. Popeye. His parents have a hard time keeping him off eating spinach. after each meal he goes and checks his muscles in the mirror. And demands spinach all the time!!!!!!!!