Friday, August 21, 2015

Not back. Just stopping by.

I stop by here ever so often and pen down so much I want to say. Then I delete it and move on with "my life". I loved writing even though most of it had very little relevance or meaning to anyone else expect me. Just like right now. I once thought that I had very little inspiration to write any longer but the truth is almost every single day is inspiring enough and no that does not mean I will be posting every single day or anything.

My blog is almost like a timeline of my life. I read back and remembered things that I would ordinarily never even have thought about - they are now, that insignificant. But they made a difference then and they made me who I am today even if I don't realise it. I've come a very long way since I wrote my last post and no, I'm not really going to fill that gap on this post. "On this post", mind you.

On the whole I feel like I've become much older since I last published on my blog and I think I'm also a little more satisfied with my life. I no longer think almost everyone needs a fucking brain transplant, although there are still a few but I won't go there. Not today.

All in all, the last 2 years have been very good.

P.S. I'm still not sorry about what I wrote in the past. Yes, I have a little bit of ass-hole left in me.

Friday, December 6, 2013

You still stop by?

If you're reading this, you're one those people that has a lot of faith. The kind that makes you think you may still find something on this blog. The kind that reassures you that you were right.

Well, I promise the writing will not stop. The frequency, I cannot tell.

Keep stopping by and thanks for having the faith.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Hello 2013

This has got to be the longest time since I posted on the blog. I won't say, I haven't written anything 'cause in fact I have written a little and just tucked it away in the drafts for another day when I think those articles will have more meaning.

Well let me start with, Happy New Year everyone! Yes, I know it's the 23rd of Feb and that's like 54 days late; you do have the option of ignoring this line, trying to erase your memory of reading it or just plain old cry your self to sleep, if you have a problem. Happy New Year. Ha, got you once again!

Well, one of the reasons I haven't posted for so long is that of late there has been very little inspiration for me to write. For those of you who do not know what inspires me, it's usually the people around me and their excuse for common sense and complete lack of basic intelligence. I can tell you there are people I have met in the last three months who I would stab with a blunt pencil in the eye, everyday, but I don't think I would say they are stupid. Actually, now that I think about it, there may be 2 or 3 insignificant ones. I won't say I'm having a joyous time at work, but it's not that bad either and I now mostly feel that I cannot let work dictate my life (sign 1 of growing old).

I did write a post a while ago and then took it down in a matter of hours, before many people could read it. It was full of hate, I know. I still have a draft. I do remember writing somewhere that I was going TRY to be more positive on my blog, but then if I was feeling it positive, why would I need to vent out right? Anyway, I guess as with most other things it's no use planning what I want to write or how often I should write - or planning on not planning either to write what and how often. I know that last statement must have confused the shit out of you.

This post today, has nothing special about it. Like I said before it is a very uninspired rant. I do complete 9 years of working in a BPO (call centre or what ever other demeaning name you want to call it by). I never thought I would do this for all this time. I always thought I would be a pilot, I almost became a pilot. I won't say I have no regrets, 'cause most people who say that are fucking liars and most of all they are lying to themselves - but yes, life hasn't been bad either. I have moved up the ladder quite a bit, made a decent living, seen new lands, had lots of "inspiration" for my blog - like LOTS and lost the years where I should have been having fun. But at the end, it's good, it's all good!

I can now boast of having 2 of my school friends being entrepreneurs (I swear I spelt that correctly in the first go, and as with all great things I do, there is nobody watching). Lynell just started The Place in Goa and Vikram continues his good work in Pune. I don't know much about The Place as yet, 'cause Lynell's been busy getting it setup and I've been lazy to offer any help. But there were some awesome pictures from the inauguration ceremony. Someone even turned up in a Lamborghini Aventador (that would have been enough for me, if just the car showed up). Good work Mr. Fernandes - I can't wait to visit (when I ever decide to take a few days off). Actually recently even Kima started his own Mobile Gaming company with a friend - I'm surrounded by these people!! All the best you guys. I'm sure you'll do well.

It's 6:35pm now, and I must start preparations for my Saturday night.

Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, October 26, 2012

The festive season/Finally beaten

With Ganesh Chaturthi start the festivities in our country. There's Navratri that follows culminating in Dussera, then there is Eid, Diwali, Another Eid (I think), Christmas and finally New year celebrations. And aren't these great times? Yes, for most. Not when you have middle class problems like mine. Read on.

The idea of celebration is usually blaring music, crackers, colours, dancing and if you can't afford a DJ bring on those massive drums that have a 4 feet diameter and whack them with 2 feet of bamboo sticks to make the loudest possible noise. And then do it again. It actually begins to sound like a beat now. Too add to that get a few massive cymbals and plonk them against each other in a random but repetitive fashion. I even saw a bunch whacking empty oxygen cylinders with a hammer to make the noise a lot louder. I must mention, they were extremely successful and noisy. I guess some people do celebrate that way (it's like how some people blast music in their cars or houses or both). But frankly, I will never understand it. Especially because I'm generally intolerant towards noise and mostly because I'm not FUCKING DEAF and my car alarm goes off way too often when this happens. Last night, I swear, I hoped the battery would just die so the car would stop going "cheeen cheeen"! This went on till 2:00am (way past my bed time). My other problem is that I now started imagining it went off again in my sleep. Which meant, I kept waking up almost every 3 minutes. Okay, maybe it was 7. Or 12. Fine, 20 minutes but that's the last.

Don't get me wrong. I love festivals. I love the colour and music it brings. But I have to say, the dances are just wrong. Skinny guys, sticking their tongues out and trying to do a Micheal Jackson hip thrust (while grabbing their crotch, in some cases the crotch of guy next to them) is not an attractive sight at all. The worst sight is when a fat guy shows up and starts looking for his crotch and then his skinny friends (with the tongue still stuck out), try to help him. Finally, they just use iPhone 5 maps and start feeling up a random fat lady's bottom. But it's festival mood so she doesn't mind till the noise stops. Then she realises both her hands are raised in the air (in some weird form of dance) and yet her bum is being touched and she doesn't remember the last time another living thing touched her buttocks and turns around and slaps the first skinny guy she sees. And then the noise starts again. There's a crowd murmuring that now fills the air with two sides explaining how the omnipresent buttocks got touched. It results with cop cars with blaring sirens arriving at the spot and announcing on loud speakers for the crowds to "chill out". But bums have been touched, and bums will be broken for that. This is 2:00am and one of them gets bumped against a certain car that goes "cheeen cheeen". Suddenly we have a winner. The crowd disperses and I am still awake hoping the battery will die with this occurrence. Finally I lay my head down on a soft pillow but with an overworked brain. I'm filled with imagination of it going off every 20 minutes (as agreed earlier) that does not let me sleep. I hear it loud and clear at 6:00am again, possibly when the guy came to wash the car. I didn't sleep at all since.

At 9:00am after a long cold shower that washed off the memories of a haggard arse getting unnecessary attention, I took my car to a Maruti showroom and told them to whatever it took to let me sleep in peace. A little guy walked out, opened the bonnet of the car and pulled a little plug (the size of one of those skinny boy's little toe nail) and I was sorted. It took him 10 seconds to put me out of my misery. I would not have noticed any thing had I decided on this a day earlier. Also, he did it for free. I accept defeat to that fucking alarm. It's caused too much trouble now and I'm happy it's gone.

I looked out of the window today only to see a woman with an enormous behind almost crushing my right rear view mirror. But I can handle that, I can.


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Home bound!

I've quit my job in Bombay and am heading back home to Pune, again. After 2 years and 7 months. During this time, I can count the number of weekends I've spent in Bombay; 5. Not that I don't like Bombay, but I think I just love Pune way too much. A certain person did ask me why I wanted to quit and I told her that it was because I didn't get a promotion (and no one is even talking about when it'll happen) after slogging my behind for the last year and a half and managing (awesomely, from the feedback) some of the most difficult work this organisation had seen. She said I wasn't promoted because I wasn't "mature" enough!! Funny thing is, that I now have offers from two organisations much bigger (in Pune, to add salt to injury) asking me to join with a promotion and a super salary hike.

Bombay..

Without a doubt, the most crazy city I have witnessed up till now. I may see something crazier, but having seen New York and London, I seriously doubt it. To be honest, Manila (I feel) was crazier than London, and wasn't even a little blemish on Bombay's madness. Bombay probably brought out the best in me because people here are just amazing. You can understand why she is the commercial capital when you see how crazy the people here are at work. And I'm talking about people from all over the country that come here (including Dilliwalas - may be cause there's no daddy here.. hehehehe). People here have no time and yet they have the heart the size of Bombay. I've met some of the nicest people in my working career here and I do believe they'll be friends for life. I will always love Bombay and she will be my best teacher.

Immature me..

This has got to be a classic.

When I decided it was time to go, it was only because I didn't get recommended for a promotion (forget getting rejected after being recommended). I wasn't even told when I should really expect to get a promotion. The irony is, these are the same people that almost threatened me from taking up (what I think) would have been a awesome job in Manila (with that "immature" promotion), saying that I was making a huge "blunder" (I hope they understood the intensity of the word) and that I would never see the face of the team I'm in if I picked it. I hadn't intended on moving permanently anyway and either way, I'm sure they would have have elephants waiting to carry me home if I decided to come back. They will deny it of course saying that they didn't even try to retain me. Yes, they did not try to retain me. Only because they couldn't match anything I was getting. 1. Pune, 2. The salary (didn't really matter, but it will be awesome) and 3. A PROMOTION (on offer from 2 companies much much larger. I guess they must be immature too). The comeback line was "That's a shit company". My point was, "As compared to who? Us? Then they're still super kick ass at the moment".

I have principles. And unfortunately in this story I was the only one. I will someday write a detailed story on my joining experience (which was enormously crap). But I'll hold on to that for a few weeks. Maybe then I can even take names! Hahahahaha.

Pune..

I'M COMING BACK!! How I missed her because of how much I know her.

I love everything about this city and everything loves me back. I'm happy to be "immature" in Pune, but I know I'll still look good. Peace descends on me when I come back every weekend. Most people in Bombay can't even understand the spirit we people from Pune have. They cannot understand why anyone would want to travel every weekend 200 kilometers to a little town. And I know several people that do this every week. The thing is only people from Pune can appreciate it. We may not have party places open till 2 am but we have good weather and big balconies to sit and drink till the early hours of the morning without having sweaty genitals! We may not have shit 'home delivered', but we can take a good walk (without being run over) to the grocery store, breathing cool breeze.  In a nutshell, I'm happier in Pune than anywhere else. I'm often told Pune is a laid back city for work, but mostly by people that don't have the cojones to come over and live a day and understand, we're far fucking ahead! I love Bombay yes, but Pune will always be my soul mate.

P.S.

"You're making a big blunder".
"Why"?
"Because you don't know what you're getting into".
"But I'm sure I want to do this".
"No. I THINK, you are not sure".

These are reasons why people leave.


Thursday, September 27, 2012

Don't. Just Don't.

Next time someone tries to stamp their authority (in general, not necessarily on me), I'm certainly going to tell them this little true story.

25th September was the 7th day of Ganesh Chaturti (Ganpati festival). It was a Tuesday. I need to give you some back ground on this story so you can see how it crumbles perfectly along at the end.

I came back to Bombay on Sunday from Pune with my niece (who is 25 and hates being called my niece) and her friend. We bought a bottle of water along the way and when we reached Bombay, the girls just left this bottle in the pocket of the seat cover behind my (the driver) seat. I did not know this. Monday was an interesting day 'cause there were a whole load of cops outside the building who weren't particularly happy about people leaving or entering the area. I'm not sure why and I'd rather not say what I heard was the problem. So I just worked from home, while my car baked in the (newly returned) Bombay heat.

Tuesday morning on my way to work I dropped off my shirts at the laundry and told the chap I'd pick it up in the evening. When I got to office, I realised it was the 7th day of Ganpati and there would be a visarjan (immersion) happening in the evening. Since, I stay right opposite the Charkop Lake in Kandivali, Bombay, that meant I needed to leave office by about 5:30pm to make sure I don't get stuck in traffic and more so in a mob of people dancing on the road as if they were possessed by the spirit of Micheal Jackson. Hundreds of people would soon descend right outside my building to immerse the Ganesh idols. So I left office and reached home by about 6:00pm and on my way, I stopped over at the laundry. The chap wasn't expecting me back so early, so he asked me to come back later. I parked the car around the corner of my apartment complex and got home to finish of some work. Now, the car I have is a K10 Alto (not the fancy type, but does the job really well), and it has a security alarm that works overtime. It goes off even when a dog so much takes a piss next to it. I'm not exaggerating, and you can even put it to test if you want. And it's effing LOUD!

I decided to walk across to the laundry at about 8:45pm (before Masterchef Australia Season 4 starts) to pick up my shirt. I felt the urge to pee by the time I started making the walk, but I was too lazy to go back up 4 floors and then walk back again. It was going to take 5 minutes anyway, or so I thought. This is where the story starts. On my way back, from about 10 meters away, I could see the watchman talking to a bunch of cops. From where I could see, two of them were like constables (with sticks) and one of them was a sub-inspector (he had a gun and I also know how the ranks work by looking at the "stars" on their shoulders). The watchman pointed at me, as soon as he saw me arrive at the scene. "WTF", was my first reaction. By this time I could feel the pee at the "tip". This is how the conversation with the cops went. As promised, I'm going to write it in Hindi, but will also translate since I already have a request for this to be in English.

Sub Inspector - Woh lal gadi tumhara hai kya? (Is that red vehicle yours?)
Me - Haan Sahib. Kyon? (Yes sir. Why?)
Sub Inspector - Bahut cheeeen cheeeen karti hai tumhari gadi (Your car does a lot of "cheeen cheeen")
*Spits tobacco to his left and very close to my slipper clad feet
Constable 1 - CHALAAA, gadi ka checking karne ka hai (COME ON, we need to check the car)
Me (almost trying to hold "it" between my legs) - Sahib, main shirt ghar pe dal ke aata hoon, mere ko toilet bhi jane ka hai (Sir, I'll leave the shirt at home and I also need to go to the toilet)
Sub Inspector - Chal, sirf do minute ka kaam hai (Let's go, it'll take 2 minutes)

So we walk toward my car about 20 meters away. Me with ironed shirts in one hand and my "thing" almost in the other.

Constable 1 - Gadi ko kholo (open the car)
**bee beep

Constable 1 and 2 start invading my car. Constable 2 finds the bottle of water in the seat pocket and hands it over to the Sub Inspector, who just opens it, without even asking me, and takes a big drink (obviously proving he's the BOSS). At this time, I'm still busy peeking into the car to see if the find anything weird and am subconsciously grabbing onto my crotch.

Sub Inspector - Aaaye, yeh paani garam kyon hai (Oi, why is this water warm)
Me (still holding my crotch) - Kaun sa paani sahib? (What water sir?)

He then looks at the bottle of water and looks down at my hand on my crotch and spits the water out. The look on his face was priceless!!

The watchman who came along with us, laughed so hard, that he had to run back into the building to avoid any trouble. The 2 constables laughed hard as well. The Sub Inspector slammed the bottle to the ground and spat the remaining water out and spat some more after that and wiped his lips at least 5 times on his shirt sleeve. Then he asked me very politely to go home.

I don't think he'll ever be trying to drink water of unknown people's cars. Actually I'm pretty sure.

P.S. I walked to the gate, almost pissing my pants (not out of fear, but out of the need to) and my watchman is huddled up in this corner laughing his ass off. He looked at me for a moment, and then laughed so hard that he let out a fart. Well, I think that was true laughter.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The detective.

I'm good at it. Really fucking good.

I've quit my job and my boss refused to accept my resignation, except that I know the law doesn't allow him to do that when I'm meeting the terms of my contract. So, because he knows that I know, he's helpless. It started a little difficult, yes, but I put my skills to it. The company fucked me over BIG TIME when I joined them and now they don't have a prayer. All I did was state the facts, with some research inference. But this is not the first time. It brought up a memory that I believe I should be proud of.

I was in the 8th grade. Circa 1995-96. I used to be in our school's RSP (road safety patrol) and a whole other ton of things (choir, boxing, chess, badminton, wasn't I a hot all rounder, etc.). We had a big week coming up and had safety drills practice everyday. We had to wear our entire kit the whole day (usually), which included a lanyard, beret, and shoulder RSP things that made us feel very proud. And it really went well with Bishop's maroon and yellow theme. We were the heroes those days.

This is where our story begins.

I would usually take off my kit after RSP "practice" at 7am before going for choir practice at 8am and keep it in my school bag. Everyone in RSP, choir and my class (8 B) knew that. A day before our big week, my entire stuff goes missing from my bag. I was shaken, cause I know mum wouldn't buy me a kit overnight. She would expect me to" find out" first as to what happened. I walked up to our class teacher in the staff room and told her my story. She is far from my being anyone that made a difference in life. The first question she asked of a 13 year old me was, "are you sure you wore the kit today"? I said,"yes ma'am, everybody saw me wear it". So, she called in a few people and asked them the question again. We had about 60 people in RSP and since our school's dress code was maroon and white, nobody remembered if I had the kit on that day. I was done.

I decided to investigate the matter. I made a list of my suspects.

First, the person that knew I had a kit that day. Second, it could only be someone from choir and RSP since they knew my routine. Third, it had to be someone that knew where my seat in class was so they could steal it. Last, it couldn't be someone from choir cause they would have been with me. 6 people were in RSP, only me in choir as well. That left 5 suspects in the class. 4 of them had kits all along and one had his parents buy him a kit for the big day, just the previous evening, which he would wear only the next day. His name was Jasdeep. Prime suspect. All I had to do was prove what he had done before the evening.

Jasdeep had a cocky, over smart younger brother in the 5th grade. The boy thought he was cooler than a blast freezer. He was my first target. I went up to his class and generally asked him if his parents were coming for the big day. He said, that his parents are not interested in stuff like RSP. Score. Which meant his parents wouldn't even see their son dressed in a kit which they "bought". Then I asked, if he'd seen his brother on practice, to which he said he had and that his brother was given a "new kit" for being the "best cadet" a day before, presentation to happen that afternoon. Brilliant. I asked him who did the presentation. He said, "The Leader". Not good. As it turns out, "The Leader" is a great friend of Jasdeep and he will obviously think something is wrong if I ask him a question. Time to turn the cocky, over smart kid on himself and his brother.

So, I asked him, if he had ever met "The Leader". The boy said he hadn't and I offered him a great chance to meet, shake hands and talk to him because I could arrange for the boy to meet what was a "good friend". He saw the opportunity in it and came with me. I told him when he meets "The Leader", he must thank him for gifting his brother the kit. The Leader, with an IQ of a chair, was the second target for reasons only I will ever know. They shook hands. The first thing the little smart ass says is, "Can I also get a kit"?. To which the dumb fuck leader replies, "What kit". The boy says, "The one you gave my brother yesterday. The victim of my superior conspiracy goes, "I didn't give Jasdeep the kit. You're parents bought it for him". Suddenly they realise I'm standing there with a smile on my face with another friend I asked to come along to witness "my theory".

Half an hour later, we have the class teacher walk in and deliver the verdict in front of 60 boys. She asked the class to clap for me, because I'd done all that without making a noise. Jasdeep cried as he returned my kit and he was obviously sorry. My mum never found out.

P.S. On the big day, Jasdeep had a brand new kit and his parents were in the stands. After the entire event, he took my hand and said his parents wanted to meet me. They gave me a foot long steel ruler, an big scented eraser and a Hero fountain pen in a packet that had "Sorry" written on it. Jasdeep told me the next day that was the only reason his parents came to see him. We're still friends.

This is a true story.