I m mature

For starters, “this is not about hating maturity” – that is what I have told myself before actually starting. Also if you are looking for maturity of bonds, women, etc. - shoo shoo hut hut – far you go from my eyesight (crude translation – courtesy Wheel Supreme).


There are some things you don’t have but you really really want them. The list can go on and on. It might be a GI Joe, high heels, a flat tummy, the other guy’s girl, the other girl’s guy’s other girl or any combination of these or simply for that matter, just some guy/girl (late entry - ability to blog to match the awesomeness of earlier posts)! And then there are some things you don’t have and you don’t even want to have – a persistent itch at the wrong place, an allergy to the most sensual perfume, fake praise, Reshamiya’s brays, Balan’s fats or Sawant’s stats.

For some, maturity falls (that too, flat on its face) in the second category. It just doesn’t come naturally to some. It is just like combing your hair every single day before going out. Have an interview? Practice a straight face. But just like you have a bad hair day, you might have a bad maturity-façade day. And then? Imagine this.

He asks, “Tell me your short and long term plans.”

You have a throat clearing ceremony, sit straight in your chair, look straight at him and start off, “After I embark on the journey of my professional career, I want to mould myself in the culture at ____, which is valued so highly in the corporate arena.” A momentary pause and you think – ‘Oh my god! The mole on his nose looks like a fly!’ Now if that happens, God save you from giving him a “Phbbbbbbbbt…hahaha.”

OK I am not going to dissect the origin, emergence and stemming out of immaturity. If you thought that I could actually do it, here – “Phbbbbbbbbt…hahaha”

So what do immature people think about and how do you spot one?
Read this as “while doing” – “they think about or actually do”:

• Walking– bowling a quick imaginary ball and playing it stylishly (often seen at airports)

• Thinking about the environment –The only bad thing about it being that you don’t have enough trees that will allow you to swing like Tarzan

• Writing forms – making up answers and having a good laugh thinking what would’ve happened, had it actually happened

• Being alone – playing akkad bakkad bambai bo/ think about innocent crimes and talking to themselves in rhymes

• Watching movies – dozing off/making up a story with an unimaginable alien twist

• Dancing – discovering a breath-taking step and actually stealing the show by doing it (e.g. one finger in the mouth accompanied by a vigorous shake of the neck)

• Eating – Smelling everything before eating and then making morsels, arranging them in the plate and naming them before eating each one

• Drinking – When the glass is full, making bubbles by blowing in to the straw and when it is empty, sucking through it to make a really interesting sound

• After blowing your nose in the handkerchief – looking at the handkerchief to see if you have managed to make a map of any country, followed by another attempt and then another.

• Swimming – Going in the water ,singing a song and asking the other person if he could make out the song

• Writing blogs – Wondering if you can actually make a word by mixing the alphabets

• Explaining things –using unrelated analogies

• Discovering that the laptop has become unusually hot - getting clothes out of the closet and quickly start ironing them
  

As for others, they give these innocent people a tough time by giving them derogatory looks(by the way, you can make 'Gatorade' from 'derogatory', just by borrowing an extr ‘a’ from extra). The most painful bit is when people ask questions like, “Why did you just do that?”
So why do these people act like this? From where I observe, there’s just one answer – there is no answer. It’s like that particular scene from all movies – Hindi or English. When the doctor takes out the bullets from a body, they show him ceremoniously putting them in a bowl. It doesn’t have any meaning. But well, the tinkering sound of the bullet does sound great! (If you didn’t get the analogy, refer to the last bullet in the bullets before this paragraph.)
I know many of us feel like acting immature. But there is some strange force in the world that makes us to be the way we are and take a stand for – ‘I m mature.’

Yes. I do seem to hate maturity.

How to crack CAT?

(Disclaimer: This imaginary interview is not about ‘a small furry animal often kept as a pet’ but about the Common Admission Test. The blogger would be the first to shun any liability that threatens to arise as a consequence of taking things even in the slightest bit of seriousness.)

Q: How do I start studying for CAT?
Ans.: Create an aura of CAT around you. It is called CATosphere. CAT score is directly proportional to the number of people who know that you’re taking CAT. “CAT ki padhaai karni hai” is the success mantra. Give it to everybody – relatives, friends, the waiter who keeps delaying you service, people in a wedding queue and even to your faithful dog whose internal mechanism is not so faithful when you’re walking him after dinner.

Q: Really? Which section do I start from - English, Math or Data Interpretation?
Ans: English of course! If you don’t know English, how would you read the Math problems? Go through the word list. Throw insanely difficult words at innocent people. Two extremely simple examples to get you going:
To a love struck friend: “Pintu, has Pinky beguiled you? I vehemently advise you to be far-sighted. She has had diddled many an innocent soul in the imperfect past.”
To someone on the cricket ground, “Please yaar Chintu. Don’t get intrepid with Shera. Abstain from stirring up a hornets’ nest on the field. You don’t want to end up all lachrymal and lolloping before the next match.”

Q: Wow! Tell me how to deal with Math. I guess it is my weak section.
Ans: Guessing is a positive start. Most of it is all about guessing. Learn all the formulae. Even if you can’t learn them, the formulae sheets should be stuck up everywhere. Spoil all your walls. Don’t even spare the floors. If you still can’t learn them, get both your hands in a fake fracture cast and do the needful on the day of CAT.
Do calculations all the time. Adding numbers on number plates and calculating batsmen’s average is a child’s play. But if you can calculate the ratio of your average heart rate to the number of times that special someone smiles while talking to you as you keep one eye on the substitute future prospect in the background, you’ve mastered math!
You must have heard of that famous saying – I read and I forget. I do this and I do that. I don’t remember much of it but it ends with “I do and I understand.” Start doing the problems. I mean actually do them. Flip coins a million times to solve probability problems. Row up and down the river and travel to and fro between towns to solve speed, time and distance problems.

Q: Amazing. What if I won’t be able to get through? Should I take up an employment opportunity or stay back at home and study?
Ans: Extremely good question. Incidentally, this query has been answered in beautiful verses by an Eighth century poet – Billeshwar.

“Decided now to write the CAT, he thinks his career is gonna get rocking,
Won’t be long before dejection sets in and mock CATs do the mocking.

The road to doomsday is like a code with infinite loops nested,
The worrying wait for the next Sunday leaves this one wasted.

A fine November Sunday brings the CAT prowling,
A midnight in January gets a few dancing while most are howling.

Now that you’ve been had by the CAT’s vexed mauling,
Get shamelessly fat and let people know - you’re all set for CAT’s next calling.”

Meri Teesri Kavita - Gone Crazy with the Waiting Wind

Every morning I wake up feeling anything but awesome,
The next thing I know is that I am brushing my teeth with cherry blossom.

Thinking about the wittiest of girls seems to be a time waste,
On some days I even brush my non existent hair with a toothbrush with a paste.

As I said, every girl seems uninteresting - from a Virgo to a Leo
On days I even wash the contact lenses on my eyes with my smelly deo.

I was waiting for it so anxiously that it has messed up the movement of my bowel,
I have begun to dry my body with a napkin and for my hands I use a towel.

In the garden, I stare at dancing fountains surrounded by oblique violets,
And then I emulate the pattern of fountains except when I am in public toilets.

Once a Bunty pehelwaan, now even the sight of stairs leaves me bed stricken,
Everything seems tasteless – be it barf ka gola, paani puri or Saoji’s chicken.

Every single minute I am occupied with just a single thought to think,
Even my work-out sessions have started to work in - causing my muscles to shrink.

Seems like I am leading a lonely life borrowed on a heavy lease,
Nothing gives a high – not even tormenting people whom I simply loved to tease.

Turbulent times these when thoughts appear like a murky poem and not in prose,
It’s wise to end it here before you freak out with my imagination’s overdose.

Saoji

Welcome to Saoji Bhojanalayas - the innumerable places dotting Nagpur offering the spiciest varieties of non vegetarian food.

A typical Saoji Bhojnalaya is kind of spooky. It is dim. It is dark. It is not just an eatery. It is a cult. You have to feel about it from within.Enter and you’ll figure out that all rules – written, heard or experienced- of the food industry are tattered down to nothing. The first person you’d encounter in SB will be an accountant. He’ll have photos of all the major gods, stocks of cigarettes, tobacco/gutkha pudyaa (pouches). Nobody would ask you the obvious Gabbar like question asked elsewhere in the world – “Kitne aadmi hai?” You are supposed to be sane enough to find a place for yourself. You can even end up being the sixth person on a table of six already occupied by five. One of the only two waiters serving a crowd of about forty odd people will arrive next to you and expect you to order. He won’t give you a menu card. There won’t be a rate board either. Remember, if you are there, you are supposed to be wise. There isn’t much to choose from. You had the choice before entering the place. Not anymore. There are three to four varieties – chicken, mutton, keema, kaleji and two subvarieties – dry and rassa (gravely called gravy).

It is so dark that every dish coming out of that stained curtain appears to be for you. You order and – no you don’t have to wait – he brings it to you fataafat! He bangs them in front of a group and you hear them shout any of the following:
“Haaa… Isko bolte saoji!”
“Ek number re baawa!”
“Aisa!”
This is followed by hesitation and a courteous invitation to co-eaters – “Lo jamao”.

The series of pointless talking is taken over by shameless eating followed by endless sweating. The custom is as inexplicable as your presence in the place.

If you are a first timer – a sincere advice is to venture out alone.
If you hate yourself and want to explore feelings like remorse and shame then plead a group of experts to let you join them and they’ll be happy to oblige. In a group of experts, first timers are inevitably laughed at their lack of preparation. If you are without a handkerchief, you try to get over the dragon-like-fire in your mouth by doing everything humane. You shift in your seat, eat papad, eat only roti, squeeze lemon in your mouth, eat onion and drink lots of water. The water seems to be finishing every minute and you feel like tearing off your clothes and screaming. Through your teary ears, you see yourself running out of options and gaalis and you too feel like running out of the damned place. The teary eyes and sweaty body gives you the feeling of a sprinkler.

Amidst difficult to explain breathing routine (issssss haaa issssss haaaaaaaa), you join others in laughing at yourself – swearing within twice – first swearing at the food and your friends and then swearing never to come at that place ever again.

“Rassa?” the waiter arrives with a mug of absolutely free gravy and asks the group. The devilish round of laughter comes back and it’s your plate everyone wants that mug to be poured in.
“Isko do,” you hear one of them say amidst muffled laughter.
The last bit you ate 5 minutes ago was so spicy that you can’t manage to utter a no. So you put your hand over the plate to avoid the serving. And the waiter showcases his hidden courtesy.
“Lo na saab,” he teasingly orders and you think it is death that he is offering through that gravy.
“Nahi chaahiye bol diya na!” you spit fire and friends howl at you – “Khaana nahi hota to uspe kyu gussa nikaalta hai?”

Anyways, it is not as bad as I have made it to be.

I have heard that connoisseurs gulp down two plates of rassa for soup before starting main course. Saoji food seemingly has priceless medicinal worth. It improves your digestive system and gets rid of cold. But asking for vegetarian food at SB is like entering a Mercedes showroom and asking for a loose tyre for your child to run around with on the streets.

What is it that draws a Nagpurian to any of these places dotting the city? This is one of the many questions which are neither asked nor answered. Who is this Saoji? Who started this madness? Is it a brand? Is it a chain of restaurants? There are no answers.

But there is something about Saoji.
Make the leads of Ghajini (Hindi and Tamil) and Memento eat Saoji together and I guarantee that even with their "What is wrong with me/what did I just think?" mishap they will not forget the taste for the next two to three days. Also their superb muscles will be put to some fruitful use, especially in the mornings!

Admission Interview Indore

(Disclaimer: This post is purely a work of imagination. Questions are genuine. The answers should not be given under any circumstances - not even under adult supervision.)

Right guy : R, Left guy: L

L: Give me your certificates file.
Me: Here. Take it. Handle with care. Don’t steal any of the certificates.

R: So your name is Pushkar?
Me: No. It’s my brother’s name.

R: And _____ is your father’s name?
Me: Yes and xxxxx is my last name.

R: It’s your family name, right?
Me: No it’s my last name.

R: So what did you do in VNIT?
Me: I played cricket. I used to have lunch. I liked the Maggie bhel in the canteen. I also checked out a few girls. By the time I passed out, I realized that I had completed Electrical Engineering.

R: When did you clear your engineering?
Me: Ask L. He has the certificates. His confused looks give me a feeling that he won’t be able to figure out the year. It’s 2006.

R: What have you done since then?
Me: Ask me, what have I not done?

R: What have you not done?
Me: OK I’ll tell you what I have done. I took up a job. I sucked at it. To be frank I couldn’t figure out why I was being paid for. I had free net access for around 10 months. Not that they charged me after that. I left the job since I couldn’t take the jargon anymore. After that I took up CA. I have been doing Complete Aaram since then.

R: You completed Electrical Engineering. Do you remember anything?
Me: No. But I know you’ll still ask.

R: What is this subject ‘Network theorems’ about?
Me: Some network theorems they taught us. Kirchoff, Thevenin, Norton, MPTT.

R: What is Norton theorem?
Me: Norton nahi.. say Norton ji. He’s elder to you.

R: What is Nortonji’s theorem?
Me: Ask him. It’s his.

R: What is the use of that theorem? Any use of this equivalent current source and parallel load?
Me: Yes. You get marks for solving problems using this theorem. Quite useful.

R: Can we apply it to any network?
Me: Not to power systems I guess. Else they won’t give us that subject.

R: What do you do to power systems?
Me: I don’t do anything. Dogs do something to transmission poles. I remember load flow equations or something making their way in my brain networks.

R: How do you solve them?
Me: I don’t. Newtonji, Raphsonji, Gaussji and Seidelji – these four people – had so much time on their hands. They solved equations without having any known variables. I don’t think we should rely much on them.

R: Tell us about Newtonji-Raphsonji method.
Me: I don’t know. They formulated it long back. We can’t rely on historians to pass it down to us correctly. It’s tweaked now. Totally unreliable.

R: What is maximum power transfer theorem?
Me: It’s like a dog, you know? It never eats when you are watching. Maximum power transfers when there is nobody watching the circuit.

R: What is this switchgear and protection?
Me: Funny subject. If you drive/ride, you’ll know how you switch gears and need protection. Helmets, seat belts and bulletproof jackets!

R: Seriously? What are relays?
Me: Four runners running and passing baton to win. Nobody is capable enough to run it completely.

R: What is a circuit breaker?
Me: Hammer. If a circuit misbehaves, we hit it with the hammer.

L: What is the meaning of Pushkar? Can you use it as a noun only or (mumbles)
Me: What? What do you want to use it as? Push kar? Gande aadmi!

L: What is Pushkar famous for?
Me: Pushkar is famous for spoofing interviews.

L: Anything more?
Me: Yes. He’s famous for snatching back his certificates. Give me that file! NOW!

L: Do you know about a list of great Indian cricketers recently rolled out?
Me: They’re all great. Not a single one among them is a common man.

L: Did India win a world cup in cricket ever in a 50 over match?
Me: No they won for 60 over one..

L: When?
Me: 1857

L: Who was the Man of the final Match?
Me: Rajesh Chauhan

L: what did he do in the final?
Me: He played in it.

L: Who’s his brother?
Me: Shivraj Chauhan

L: What does he do?
Me: He steals money from mom, buys chocolates for his little brother Rajesh and keeps the free stickers.

L: Tell me five great Indian all rounders?
Me: Robin Singh, Ravi Shastri, Sunil Joshi, Harvinder Singh and umm….Venkatpathi Raju. That was in the order of importance – worst to best.

L: Tell me top three all time all rounders of the world.
Me: Richie Benaud, Yousuf Pathan (scored points by mentioning an Indian in the list!) and Vidya Balan – she is round all over (more points yay!)

L: Thank you.
Me: It’s ok. (to R)You want to ask something?

R: No. Thank you.
Me: It’s ok yaar. Don’t get scared. (to L) Take care of him. See ya guys later.

Meri Dusri Kavita

To dosto baat us waqt ki hai jab mein rehta tha gaav mein,
Behta tha paani naak se aur chappal nahi thi paav mein.

Khair ek din hamaare gaav mein ek saadhu maharaj aaye the,
Apne saath kuch jaadu ki vastuye aur ek sundar kanya laaye the.

Pataa chalaa us kameene ki kamseen haseena ka naam tha Savita,
Aur saadhu ji ki speaking style synced perfectly with the rhyme scheme of this kavita.

“Toh logo aap to jaante hi hai, hum sab ki aakhir jalne waali hai chitaaye,
Main jaanta hoon jeevan ke saare raaz, aakhir everest pe barah saal fukat hi nahi hai bitaaye

“I am not the one who’d want to give you any false promises,
But first a promise from you - nobody would ogle at my missus.”

Mere taraf dekh ke saadhu bole, “Jaraa idhar to aao baalak,”
Main bhi jaa kar puchne laga, “Kya main mushkil mein hoon maalak?”

Saadhu bole, “I see you eye my Savi as if a hen for a feisty feast!”
I said, “Not at all sir, it’s not in my demeanor to be a nasty beast!”

“Agar aap kahe to main aap ke darbaar se chale jaata hoon,
Everest to main gaya nahi, lekin masala everest ka hi khaata hoon!”

Just as I wished that sadhu’s show would be as flop as Herman,
My ears shook up with the words of his serpentine sermon.

“See I would have told you about my Himalayan quests,
But since it’s beyond your reach, I’d tell you my requests.

To have a sacred soul like me amongst you for long,
And through me, I’d make your souls, bones and teeth so very strong.

I request you to serve me lots of food, butter or oily, without any buts
And oh yeah, every dish has to have a pinch of almonds and cashewnuts.

My life is for serving you, oh god’s best creatures,
I don’t crave beyond grape juices flowing from pitchers.”

Endless requests ka end dhundne school ka Kisna master bhoka
Aur ek jargoned generic statement us sadhu ke maathe Thoka..

“Prabhuwar, hamaare life se dukhho ka saaya hataaye
Aur jeevan saarthak banaane ka koi simplest of simple formula bataaye”

“Dekho hum jaise log bahut complicated cheeze bataate hai,
Jaise jeevan ki patang ko ummeed ke thread se udaate hai

Aise aur fruitlessly futile sentences hum roz roz bataayenge,
Aaj ke liye itna kaafi hai – ab hum fruits ka chadhaava khaayenge.

Jeevan ek jive aur jam session hai jisme jaane na kitne jaane jaa chuki hai,
Aaj aur nahi hoga – apni baate sun sunkar hume hi neend aa chuki hai.”

subah ke low temperature mein gaav waale high pelvic pressure lekar river kinaare jaate the,
Aur Kisna master river water ke volume ko temperature, pressure se relate kar Boyle’s law samjhaate the.

Zor lagaate hue sarpanch bole, “Hum sab ko mil ke zor lagaana hai,
Aaj raat tak hi us dhongi baba ko gaav se bhagaana hai”

Kisna kaka bola “Tumhaare pet ke liye hum sab kyu aur kaise zor lagaayenge?
Jaha tak saadhu ka sawaal hai usey to hum milke hi bhagaayenge.”

Us din hum sabne sadhu ko tremendously tempting mithaayi khilaayi thi,
But the dhaasu sadhu didn’t know ki humne har mithaai mein halki neend ki goli milaayi thi.

“Soye hue saadhu ko iske khatiya ke saath hi uthaao”, harangued the gung-ho Mr. Hangal,
And we promptly deported the smelly bellied saadhu to the middle of the jungle.

Do din ke baad saadhu maharaj jab fir gaav aaye, badal chuka tha sab kuchh,
Andar jaa chukka tha pet aur gaayab thi daadhi – muuchh.

Feeling sorry for the poor fellow, we realized that jungle safari had truly made him suffer,
Savita ji ko dekh ke who muskurakar bola “Kal se hum shuru karenge zindagi mein ek naya safar”

Sun ke usko Savita ji khilkhilaakar boli, “Dekho to mujhe dekh ke kaise aahe bharta hai!”
And giving him a playful punch, she said, “Saala nautanki, ghadi ghadi drama karta hai.”

So the poem ends with the saadhu turning out to be wise and cool,
He eventually became the moral science teacher of the village school.

I swear the poem has finished – mere paas aur kuch nahi hai bataane ke liye,
Agar aapko jungle nahi pahochna to bina soche Comments section ke taraf chaliye!