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Monthly Archives: February 2009

I finally got around to drawing a simple cartoon that illustrates the steps involved in the fine art of making a brassiere (Yes, Victoria..I’m letting the secret out..cheap bra’s for everyone) out of a Handkerchief.

The Sri Ram Sene will try to buy the patent from me, so their goons can forcibly clothe loose women (If a woman is loose, then the only solution is growing a bigger penis to fit the sleeve of the wizard). Bonus points if you got the Borat reference. You can also use it to readily clothe a Hindi movie heroine who has just been raped and is looking for a suitable way to regain her modesty. Tamizh movie heroines usually wear the 9-yard davani, so plenty of material to go around there. Pun intended.

Hanky Panky Bra

Hanky Panky Bra

Or

I thereby propose a new campaign! The Hanky Panky Bra Campaign. Hanky Panky Bra Campaign will be the next big thing in charity events, dwarfing even Breast Cancer!! How can anything ever eclipse the breast, you ask? Ever been mooned? A well executed moon can eclipse breasts very well. The breasts still win in the fondling category though. Whatever happened to good old fashioned AIDS Charitable events? Terminal sexual diseases not important enough anymore? Have AIDS charities been run into the ground by the US and European media and now passed over as a 3rd-world problem? Designer drugs that can keep Magic Johnson alive for 15+ years are now getting cheaper? Is it now a hand-me-down event?

Why is Breast Cancer more important than AIDS ? Yes, ‘cos I, as a man, love boobies, and this world would be one giant carrom board if all women lost their boobies to Cancer. Nin Akkan Carrom Board! This is my most misogynistic post ever.

I’m sick and tired of running relays, cooking Chili, donating old clothes and playing volleyball for Breast Cancer. What about Prostrate Cancer? Can you imagine everyone at work taking a day off to run relays to raise money so men can hang on to their balls? Yeah sure, I see that happening soon. Let’s start with testicular massage marathons. That should be a fun event at work for sure. “5 dollah, sucky, fucky!! All proceed go to Testiculah Cancer Chalitee!!

December 2000. It was the first day of our first semester exams. It was the dreaded Math 1. Since, DJ, Febi and I had all-nighted the night before and were in no mood to take the college bus. So, I borrowed my mom’s car and decided we would pick up Pavan(Bablu) at Gangenahalli on our way to college.

I had my driver drive us, as all of us wanted to spend every spare minute cramming mindless formulae. Somewhere in the proximity of Yelahanka, I was trying to calm myself down uttering random nonsense. “Sandapupu, Sandapupu….”.

Pavan – “What is that?”

Me – “What is what?”

Pavan – “Sanda..whatever”

I look over at Febi and DJ. The time is ripe, we simultaneously decide.

Febi – ” You don’t know Sandapupu?”

Pavan – “No?”. Pavan was always afraid his musical choices were never kewl enough for our approval.

“What , who is Sandapupu?”

DJ as facetiously as possible – “Dude!! You havent heard Sandapupu? Sandapupu Play!..????”

Pavan – “……..no?……?”

Febi – “WHAT?? Sandapupu Play man!! STFU!! WTF..you haven’t heard Play?? He’s like the best in the business!! The new album is the most earth-shattering, shaata-trimming, tear-jerking, heart-moving, dikchik pumping thing you will ever hear!!”

Pavan – “Where can I get the album?”

Me – “Ahh, nin akkan pongal! That’s where the trick is – The album is one of those underground releases because of a R rating and explicit rating. So, Musicworld doesn’t it stock it openly.”

Pavan getting increasingly agitated at his apparent lack of all things mujikally fit..mujikally fit..mujikally mujikally mujikally fit.

“So where can I get it man??? Tell me daa!!”

Me -” When you enter MusicWorld, go down about 3-4 aisles to where they display the Heavy Metal stuff like Metallica, Panthera n all. On the right, when no one’s looking, quickly bend down, pull the drawer open and you’ll see it, I hope..if it hasn’t sold out already, cos Sandapupu is the fuckin shit dude!!”

By that time, we got to college. All of us poured out and went to the Engineering Department looking for our assigned seat numbers and classrooms. Febi and DJ were always in a  different class-room, so I never had the fortune of being able to “exam” with them.

But anyways, after that day, all of us forgot about the Sandapupu bait.

About 2 months later, pavan returns from an All-India yatra that he did with his mom. He calls us up when he got back and we went out for Kaati Rolls.

Pavan gets off his bike – ” You fucking bastards!! ”

Febi – “WTF?? ”

Pavan – “Bitch!! I didnt have time to go to the Musicworld in bangalore before I left, so i went to the one in Delhi. And I couldnt find it!! So I asked the store attendant to help me out by running a search on the inventory and he looked at me real funny when I said Sandapupu. And then I started convincing him..and then..you fuckers…!!”

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhahaha….rolling on the floor…stomach sides hurt….cant breathe…..hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

April 1999. The Indian School Certificate Examinations were done with. No more Organic Chemistry, no more building drawings, no more Chacko tuitions! Ammu’s dad had graciously invited a bunch of us to spend a week on his Houseboat( named Ammu too) in the back-waters of Cochin. Anuradha, Kavya, Varun(Stud), Sushan, Yashas, Dhananjay and I accepted and on a nice, hot, Bangalore summer day, boarded the Kanyakumari Express for an overnight journey to Cochin.

Ammu’s dad had arranged for two cars to pick us up from the railway station and take us to his home just in time for lunch. And what a  lunch it was. I love Keralite food. Appams, Stew, Banana fritters, Chicken Kozhumbu, Appalams, Tender coconut water…mmmmmm. That afternoon, we all piled into a Temp Traveller and visited a couple of cool new buildings Ammu’s dad was working on. He was a well known Architect in Cochin. Evening rolled by, and he decided the weather was cool enough to get on the Houseboat and begin our journey.

We swam, saw porpoises, ate freshly caught fish and other back-water delicacies for 3 days. On the third day, we docked at Alleppey(the Venice of Kerala) and boarded the Tempo Traveller, for what we thought was a the drice back to Cochin. But Ammu’s dad, generous man that he was, told us that he had arranged for a another 4 days of Kerala sight-seeing, his treat. we couldn’t pass up the offer and drove straight to Thekkady, a beautiful forest preserve near the Periyar River. We spent  a day there, hiking up and down some forest trails and got to see some rare red flying squirrel, I forget the genus name.

From Thekkady, we went on to Kovalam, which is famous for its beach. We got there a little before the high tide was in, which gave us some time to quickly get into some appropriate beach-wear and hit the sand and surf. Varun and Sushan hadn’t packed swim-trunks, so they decided to brave the waves in the flannel pajamas that Sushan had sourced from Nepal (Sushan is from Nepal, btw). The high-tide came in and we enjoyed being pulled against the sand by the large waves when they receded. Varun and Sushan were trying to cart-wheel and perform all manners of funny acrobatics on each other in the waves.

About an hour later, it started getting dark, and so we decided to head out. I took off to one of the shacks along the beach, where, for a rupee, you could wash your feet and sand off your body and change into fresh clothes in moderate privacy. I got changed and was about to head to the Tempo, when I noticed, varun was still in the water. So, I went closer and yelled for him to get out. He sheepishly announced he could not. On further quizzing, I determined that somehow the salty ocean water had made short work of the flannel pajamas( only his, not Sushan’s) and all that was left was an elastic band around the waist, with some strands of flannel dangling from it. Judging by the way he was describing the cold ocean water lapping around his balls, I could tell the the ocean had not left enough flannel for a strategic covering of shaata. Shaat-ulous! Nin Oceanic Shaata, I say..this was bloody funny. I could picture Varun wading out the water, in strands of flannel, causing all the tourists left to think he was some semi-naked Mer-man arrrived from the depths, to deliver a message from Lord Varuna(Ruler of the Oceans). So, I did the only think I could think of at the time. To embarrass him further. I took off to the Temp and told Anu that Varun had asked her to buy a pair of trunks at one of the beach-side stalls and give it to him. She looked horrified! I told her I couldn’t do it as I had to go find Sushan. Not wanting to delay our hosts, she begrudgingly went off to source the trunks, wade into the water and give trunks to Varun, who couldn’t have been more embarrassed to be handed clothes by Anu. Hahahahaha. By that time, I had rounded up Sushan, Kavya, Ammu and the rest and had informed them about the Mer-man of Kovalam. When Varun and Anu got into the Tempo, Stud was greeted by howls of raucous laughter.

Of course, the funny story of the dissolving flannel and the Merman of Kovalam did the usual rounds of gossip in the Valley School circuit, and finally made it to my blog, to be recorded and documented for posterity.

Summer, 2005.  Hot, sunnny and  “make you wash your Fruit of the Looms twice a  day” humidity in Chicago. So damn hot for 3months, that, natives go mad and wear next to nothing. Great time to go for a leisurely sight-adichufying walk along Lake Michigan.

The Shaata 5 were now the Trimmed 3. Prajvin and Kartik had moved on to bigger things, namely co-ops! Hobbit(Nikhil Sherman), Motte(Sandy G Rao) and me were a man short on rent. We posted an ad listing under “Room-mate Wanted” on IIT Bazaar and a week later, found our helpless prey.

Nikhil announced that we would be having a guest for dinner that evening. A German girl named Claudia. I was, as the resident Deutsche sprecher, very excited about having a guinea pig to say “Guten Abend! Wie geht’s?” and continue the rest of the conversation in safe English.

In our excitement, we forgot to tell Choithanya abou the addition for the evening. Around, 6Pm, claudia shows up with Nikhil. Motte said “Hallo, I yam Sandy”. I said “Wie geht’s, ich heise Prithvi”, and Chaithanya said – “Yallo, I yaam Choi-thanya” and spilt his drink, thereby wetting the shaat-ular regions. Instead of getting up and excuse himself, he erected an invisible wall, swivelled his chair around, and went to work trying to dry the area with heat generation from palm-on-crotch friction.  It was obvious, he had never interacted with a fraulein.

Meanwhile, Nikhil burst into giggles and decided to order Chinese food for the night. 30mins later, Choi-thanya was designated to go downstairs and pick up the food. He returned with the brown bag neatly stuffed with Crab Rangoon, Schezuan Chicken and Chicken Flied Lice, and we promptly attacked it with mighty impressive Kung-cutlery-fu.

Once the meal was over, and every rast glain of flied lice was finished, Choi-thanya(the designated cleaner-upper) decided to save himself from excruciating small talk and went to the kitchen to clean up. A minute later, he emerged screaming – “Look what I found, look what I found!!”. We thought there were some lost rangoons and therefore started salivating. You know the deal with Chinese food..30mins later, still hungry? Same rule applies to Chinese women too, btw.

But, instead, he pulls out a handful of fortune cookies and looks at us quizzingly. We weren’t sure what was happening. Then he asked – “Whaat are these?”.

Nikhil looked at me first. I smiled.

Nikhil said – “Escargot”.

Choithanya – “Whaat ees thaat?”.

Nikhil – “Escargot man! Snails..Chinese style!”.

Choithanya – ” How do youu yeat thyem?” .

Nikhil – “Bring me the pliers and I will show you” .(As broke graduate students, we did not have a nut-cracker).

Choithanya returned with the un-wrapped fortune cookie and the pliers.

Nikhil  – “Ehhh, you’re an engineering student, no? Put the Escargot between the plier jaws and crack it open! It’s shell is very hard, so use a lot of force!”.

Choithanya – “…………………Crackle…Pop..Tchwat……” and a thousand little pieces of fortune cookie fell to the floor.

By this time, Sandy, Nikhil and me are rolling on the ground, putting Tirumala’s rolling devotees to shame, fists clenched and laughing so hard it hurt.

Choithanya caught the fortune that was fluttering to the ground and read aloud – ” With many years comes the wisdom of ages”.

fortune-cookie

1. The fortuituous Escargo incident

2. The Mer-men of Kovalam Beach

3. The French Feat of Strength

4.  The Mormon-Iyer conjunction.

5. How the Earth got Jiggy with it.

6. How to pull a fast one on MES-ites.

from Tharle Nan Maga featuring Phoren Bikshaka! and Stingy Father!

Song by Kashinath! This is great!! Navaratri olage yella nadiyabeku!

V-Day 2009 passed in a blur of Hindutva goons assaulting “loose” women, cries to “Pub Bharo” and a shit-load of Pink chaddi’s being mailed to Mr. Pramod Mutha-Ass-lik. Biharis being chased out of Bombay by Thackeray, Hindutva goons burning churches and beating women in Mangalore. And did you hear about the two peanuts that went into a pub? One of them was a-salted!!

These were events that my generation never thought would come to fruition while growing up in the 80’s.

Barring the riots in New Delhi after Indira Gandhi’s assasination, all I remember from the 80’s are the great efforts by Doordarshan to promote National Integration with ad campaigns like “Mile Sur Mera Tumhara”, the ad with all the famous sports-persons running around various parts of India passing a torch on to each other, the famous “Ek Chidiya” cartoon, the Spirit of Unity concerts that would come on every Sunday morning around 11am and all the other commercial advertisements for “Hamara Bajaj”, “Maggi Noodles” and a bunch of others.

I remember singing “Mile Sur Mera Tumhara” with my friends on the 1-hr school-bus ride to school. And all the kids on the bus were a good representation of all the cultures in India. We had gujju kids, Gulti kids, lil Diga’s, lil Kaats(me), Punjabi kids, marathi kids, dingo kids, slightly retarded kids, kids of famous celebs and we all got along just fine. Our respective religions, languages etc NEVER came into play.

And as we grew up, Bangalore grew too. We grew up going to pubs with the girls, and I dont ever remember the girls ever acting “indecently”. We were just having a good time, sharing memories and forging new multi-cultural friendships and bonds. Discovering ourselves, in short.

It hurts me deeply when I think of the “divide and conquer” policies local politicians and goons are using to capture vote-banks. I thought we changed Bangalore to bengaluru to rid ourselves of the British Stigma( though I still feel, bad or not, they were as important a part of our history, as the Mughals, the Chalukyas, the Kempe-Gowda’s and the Aryans, and therefore their contributions cannot be erased by a mere name change). But apprently, while our politicians dont want to acknowledge their infrastructure and educational contributions, they seem to love whupping out the administratory policies the British used to lord it over us for 200 years, and use it in new ways to whip up inflammatory anti-communal sentiments.

And Nisha Susan, Pink Chaddi’s? Seriously, is that the best you could come up with? Has anyone thought of free Muay-Thai lessons?

Enjoy:

Economics meets Engineering

Economics meets Engineering

I was having my weekly conversation with a lil birdie who works on contract for an office furniture company near Dallas. It is incidentally, owned by my previous employers. Now, most desis that have been around in the States for a while, know that Texas could be considered a little redneck. Texas brings to mind – Boots, Large Hats, Large egos, and Gay cowboys..in that order.

So, the lil birdie is rambling on and on about how his white supervisors are cracking the whip on other white and black employees who until now, refused to work weekends. The new rule here: work weekends or dont work at all.

Nice. I like it. I’m sure millions of desis who drag their brown asses out of bed every Saturday morning for work or school are cheering and going “Whup Whup!”.

Back to the story. Sorry, I digress..A LOT! My other buddy P, is now pretty high up in the Operations circle, was recently made Lean Lead there. Pretty good for a 27 yr old, considering average age of management at that level is 50+. I asked lil birdie how he knew. Very matter of factly – “I saw him wearing a White Shirt with “company” logo. That got me confused a bit. Then he went on to explain that, at “V”, only the leadership team gets to wear White shirts (Doodh ki safedi, Nirmaaa se Aaayi!) with embroidered company logos. Everyone else beneath them, wears regular “color dress”. So, if you ever see a guy/gal in colors, when previously seen wearing white, you know they’ve been demoted. Visual reality and humility check.

Now considering the racist struggles at America over the generations, when whites reigned supreme, blacks had to fight for their freedom, and now it is the turn of latino, asians and other minorities to slowly be taken seriously..you can see the kind of image “S” is sending out..

“If you’re White, you in power; if colored, get in line at the back of the bus”.

Pretty shockingly racist! I hope HR at V/S is reading this.

Don't work more for less, or you will eat dead cat!

Don't work more for less, or you will eat dead cat!