Every Rajesh Has Its Day

One of the perks of living in a society with over 600 families is that you get to witness discussions (read mails) about everything under the sun. Right from the topic of loud neighbours ruining your Sunday afternoon to complaints about people with gastro problems farting too loud in apartment lifts. The one topic that has stood the test of time and entices just about the same kind of rapt attention anytime during the year is on “Dogs”…Dog poop, Dog pee, Dog bark, Dog bite. In fact, dogs have been discussed in my society way more than what cows have been in our country.

Every time an accusation of a dog attack is made, all the dog owners unite and have this backlash similar to the reaction invoked if something is done to the Dalit community. A dog attack gets varied set of views from the dog owners describing it as, he just sniffs but does not bark, just barks but does not bite, just bites but does not bite hard. In the midst of this acrimonious discussion oblivious to anyone’s cognizance, the victim would be getting 18 injections on his tummy. Before someone accuses of me being insensitive to dogs, let me tell you…I have nothing against dogs, it just scares me since I don’t know what it is thinking. To make matters worse, most dogs are strategically designed to be tall enough to be sniffing at the personal anatomy of an “average heighted” Indian male and that scares us even more. And it is plain annoying to hear dog owners say…. Don’t worry he doesn’t bite. Seriously!!! This is like saying, I have a skunk, but don’t worry, it doesn’t stink!

Quite recently, I was invited home by this couple that own a dog. They are this new gen couple, that don’t like to have kids and instead have a dog. I don’t have a view on this btw. But for me the dilemma was…normally when I visit a house with kids, I buy some chocolates or cookies and so wondering if I should take some dog biscuits or maybe a bone. Think about it…you can’t go empty handed right! It was a lovely pet they had. They made the dog show some tricks…shake hands, get the ball, jump up and down etc. As I watching all this with rapt attention, it suddenly struck me this is exactly what my parents made me do every time someone visited us. Rajesh, do this trick, that trick and now everyone clap your hands. In this case, instead of Rajesh it was “Tommy”. Strikingly similar isn’t it, the similarity between raising kids and dogs. I wonder if dog owners will also be like…Tommy, why are you not shaking hands properly; look at Sharmaji’s dog. He shakes hands so well and even got first place in the Dog Olympiad.

To me one of the most amusing sights on earth is watching dog owners walk behind their pets with a poop bag. That should end the debate on who the master of the house is. And the irony is dog is called Man’s best friend. Let me tell you this. I have a best friend by name Praveen. I have never walked behind Praveen trying to figure out when he would poop. If Praveen wants to poop, he goes to the rest room and poops. It didn’t matter to Praveen whether I was walking behind with a poop bag or not. And you know why…because Praveen was fully potty trained by the age of 3. And that Praveen my folks deserves to be called my best friend. Logic isn’t it?

I am sorry to say dog owners, it doesn’t matter how much you train them, your dogs aren’t smart. Have you seen your dog running to the door every time the bell rings. How is that smart? When is the last time your dog had a personal visitor. It is not as if Dog Jimmy from next door is stopping by to call on your dog. If at all you want to train dogs, ask them not to run behind cars and instead teach them to simply note down the license plate numbers!

By now even the noblest of the dog owners and non-dog owners must be thinking that I am quite heartless with my rant on dogs. Like in Bollywood movies, I had a traumatic flash back too. Things wouldn’t have been the same had I grown up with a dog. When I was 10, I wanted to have a dog. I ask my dad, begged, cried and pleaded that we have one.  But my dad was like…Rajesh, it is already hard enough having two dogs at home. The naughty kid that I was, I retorted saying…Appa, don’t be too harsh on yourself and amma…we (me and my sis) don’t think of you that way. And WHACK! There ended by aspirations of being a dog owner.

Finally, to end it…dear Dogs (yes, with all the training they get, one day they might read this), sorry if I was mean, insensitive and cruel with this article. One day you guys would get so powerful and you can then say…” Every Rajesh gets its day”. Until then…BOW BOW!!!

Will you marry me?

Was watching a sit com the other day and there was this scene where the guy proposes to the gal. I love the way the Westerns go about their business…guy slips the ring in a glass of champagne…gal notices just when she is about to drink and goes like Oh my God!...guy gets on his knees, says a couple of “punch” dialogues and follows it up with…Will you marry me! And even before gal could answer, the rest of the people in the restaurant stop eating their food and go congratulate the couple. Classic! Isn’t it.

Now, I think about how it worked for me…there were about six people staring into the monitor and my uncle goes like…”I think you should go for profile number F345654. And my grand mom adds in…yes, she can not only sing but dance as well. Ya… India is the world’s largest democracy…almost everyone had a say on which gal I should marry…my mom, grand mom, niece, nephew and also my next door aunty.

The profile write up, which goes on to the website, is a critical step in this process. I told my dad…ya..I want to get married, but let’s be discrete on my profile. So, my profile read…”Bangalore boy, earning a handsome salary (ya…if the boy is not handsome, you can effectively use this adjective to describe the money he makes) working for a leading FMCG, that makes your skin whiter and your shirt brighter, is looking for a suitable gal…”. The next day when I went to work, I felt like a jack ass, with all my colleagues laughing at me.  In case you are wondering how they got to know…those days we did not have facebook…so matrimony.com was the only substitute.

What follows this profile upload is what I call as the “half hour” meeting. So, in thirty minutes, you will have to decide if you are ready to spend the rest of your life with this person. It is amazing how the propensity to flirt with a girl drastically diminishes when you are evaluating if she can be your wife. This meeting is the like viva voce that we used to have during our lab exams. You go all well prepared for a standard set of questions, but then sometimes the “natural you” comes out.                                                                                                                              There was this gal that asked me…so what are your interests?”                                                                                                     And I said…”Women”.                                                                                                                                                                           She got so offended that she complained to her parents, who in turn complained to two other families. This simple incident in fact cost me two “profiles” in the pipeline. And there was this other gal that rejected me because I looked too young and immediately my mom goes like…”look what your hair cut has done”. You know, this is quite a chauvinistic process, where the gal folks are not “allowed” to say no. So, they come up with one of the two accepted substitutes – the gal wants to do higher studies or the gal is being sent on an on-site assignment. It is amazing, the number of gals that either got enthused into higher studies or got an opportunity for an on-site assignment immediately after meeting me. I must have been sending out some anti-marital vibes. But, what upset me the most about these meetings was that almost always I ended up footing the bill. It was like some kinda promo in town…have a half hour meeting with Rajesh…and earn a free dinner.

After all the huff and puff, the big day of marriage arrives. And for some reason in our custom, which can only be best explained by the guy who came up with this idea, the groom is made to sit top less with hundreds of people looking at him. What kinda set up is this...I wonder! Ok…who am I to question age old rituals…but the only thing I was looking forward to  and here again influenced by  western culture…I was really hoping that after the garland exchange ritual, the priest would go like…”ok Rajesh, you may now kiss the bride”. That would have been something. Isn’t it!

I Got Mail

I like emails! I like the small window that pops up every time I get a mail. Makes me feel important, makes me feel “needed” and makes me feel like I am contributing to the company’s growth. I have often wondered how life would have been during the “pre-email” era...you would have had a boss walk up all the way to the employee’s desk and say…”Loganathan, I want to an explanation to screw up on this project by eod today…and rest of you pretending to work, but actually listening to me…you are in CC”. I think one of the greatest pleasures in life is to be in “CC”. 90% of the people CCed in emails have nothing to do with those mails…they are like the gossipy neighbors watching the couple quarrel. Hey…put off all the work…Loganathan is getting screwed…lets get CCed and watch all the fun.

You can say a lot about the person by just looking at his emails. We have this bunch of people, who, I like to call as the “big bang theory” guys. Anything that you ask them and they will start off from the big bang and evolution of universe….and by the time you get to the end of the mail, you lose track of why you even sent the mail. Dude…I was clean shaven when I started reading your mail and look at me now! And there are those that reach out to you before the email traverses to your inbox. Sir…I sent you a mail on this query.
Ok…but I did not receive any.
No sir…I just did. Press refresh!

There is also this breed of people that put a rainbow to shame. They use every color and every font size…even my four year old son does not use as many colours when he paints. Imagine if you are colour blind…you can get a complex reading those mails.
Perhaps, the best of the lot, is the illustrious ones that use a lot of jargons and end by saying…”I will get back to you”. I think...”get back” is the single most profound and powerful technique one can use to shy away from work. This seemingly innocuous yet intelligent phrase that carefully avoids any reference to the time dimension can do wonders to your “life-work” balance. By the time the guy decides to “get back”, the world would have stopped using emails as a technology for communication. Ya ya..these are the ones that you call as “smart ass” (no…not derived from “smart arts” in ppts…but the mild correlation cannot be dismissed easily). And, whats with the acronyms…fyi & a, eod, IMHO…So, Mr. Gopal, whats your opinion on this? I wish I can say..ICD…I Care a Damn!

Ya..emails is quite something… isn't it. There are novel tools too…”Out of Office Assistant”. An assistant to help on an occasional absence from office. But, what about those with an occasional presence in office. Can we have an “In office assistant” please. More about it the next time!

Where are all the women!!!

Adam must have been a happy man. He didn’t have to go too far to look for women. All he had to do was go by the apple tree and he would find Eve plucking the fruits. But, life ain’t as easy for the youth of today. Which is why you see them going for computer classes, fitness centers, Salsa classes etc. The last one is possibly the worst of them all. So the dude joins th

e class in an honest attempt to find women…and what does he see…30 guys and 2 gals…and even these two gals would have brought their macho boy friend’s along with them. The sequence of events that unfold subsequently is fairly self explanatory. There is nothing worse in this world than being made to dance salsa with a fellow dude. And what is worse is if your guy partners actually “enjoys” the dance. Seriously…this is not what God had in mind when he designed this world!

The other option for meeting women, which is almost as unsuccessful as the previous one is gymming. I myself have been a victim to this plan many years ago (yes yes, I was single then) when I promptly joined a gym in my neighborhood. For someone like me that has been brought up with “thayir sadham” (curd rice) as a staple diet….the gym can be quite an embarrassment. And what is worse is, the trainers around don’t give a damn to what the male folks are into. So, here I am struggling with those weights and all thetrainers seem oblivious to it. But right next to me is a pretty dame tread milling and she has about three trainers teaching her on how to run. Seriously…this is humanity at its lowest ebb. Then, I got all pissed off and made a big hue and cry to the management. The next few days were remarkable indeed…I had trainers all over me and helping me with every exercise. In fact one trainer dude took it a little far and even offered help when I went to the rest room. Sir…that is not the way to hold. No…seriously dude…lets restrict the “helping” and advises to the training alone.

So, coming back to the point…why life should be so complicated for men. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if like in Facebook men carry a “wall” with them…”25 year old man, desperately looking for a women to date…is un cool, pathetic loser and works in IT”. And, women can press the “like” button if interested. Now…that would be something. You can see guys go like…”I must be giving out some vibes…I got 25 likes today…and two of them where in fact from men as well”. Not a bad idea right! For all those single guys out there…keep trying these facebooks, tweeters and blogs…if you don’t succeed with one of those sites…there is a good chance that you will land up with another one…www.bharathmatrimony.com!

TGIM - Thank God Its Monday

I have a problem…I have a problem with this breed of people who walk around office with so much excitement, who behave like they would rather be at work than spend the time lazing around at home and I have a problem when they carry an attitude of a Friday when on a Monday. This breed of people is the breed that is on their way to greener pastures or in corporate terms, is going through their notice period. In fact I don’t even like this term “notice period” …, I get the feeling, if you don’t put in your papers, you go through an “unnoticed” period. It rubs it in…doesn’t it?
Have you observed these guys during meetings…no deadline is impossible, no business requirement is difficult and they come out of the meeting feelings like the rest of us are lesser mortals. This is possibly the way the Neanderthal man would have looked at the pre-historic men and said…ok monkey men…we have invented the bow N arrow…so you continue to throw your stones at each other but we have upgraded!
Also the other thing that annoys me…the way the announcement of people leaving is made. So, we are already going through this predicament of seeing our colleague get a 60% hike with a fancy job title and the announcement from our boss goes like…well Loganathan has decided to move on…and all us stand like a jack ass feeling even more stagnant. I mean, what is this “move on”, who came up with this term. The person that coined this term...has he cared to even think about how low and small the rest of us would feel?
To all you leavers and movers…Life comes a full circle…just a matter of time before you get into the rigmarole of deadlines, work pressure, screw ups and appraisals! Remember…like in life, honeymoon can’t go on forever…enjoy it while it lasts, because very soon marriage would take over! Amen!

H for Hen

I come from a family where curd rice (“thayir sadham”) with mango pickle (vadu manga) is considered staple diet. No amount of convincing that even a badly cooked chicken tikka tastes better than a well made brinjal curry could discourage their love for vegetarianism. Afternoons are normally spent talking about the engineering line that my three year old should pick up or about the latest entrants amongst my relatives into the marriage market and their possible pairing, the right fixed (with an emphasize on the “ed” in typical south Indian fashion) deposit schemes and on Sumathi’s dilemma. The last one is a character from a popular sun TV soap.
It was one of those afternoons where my son was going through his drill of weekly coaching of slogas that he can recite, songs that he can sing and on his ability to call out the English alphabets, a legacy left by our forefather’s the Britishers. He was confidently calling out Apple, Ball, Cat etc every time the alphabet card with a picture was pulled out…it was a treat for the entire family. Even as the recital performance was one, my grandfather in his characteristic 1960’s tone and English speaking style was like…see I told you he is a brilliant boy and will make the family proud…” and even before he could complete the sentence the “H” card with a picture of a hen was pulled out and Sashank confidently blurts out “Chicken”. There was a stunned silence, a grave sin has been committed , blasphemy indeed…and the entire family looks at me and in unison go like…see what you have done, Sashank said “chicken”!
It’s been a week since and I am still trying to get him to say…”H for Hen”

The perils of an admission process!

Did you check out the new gal that has joined ….Purple haze continues to rock man!, a tattoo on the right shoulder looks so kewl dude, did you check out this other gal that has joined…a matter of time, marriage and kid(s) before all of these conversations become a distant memory and you get to that point in life where most of your conversation revolves around “school admission”.

As frivolous as it sounds, this seemingly simple process has a lot of intricacies which the lesser mortals (read “happy” single men/women, SINK & DINK couples) fail to comprehend. Until recently I was completely oblivious to the thought of little Sashank having the need for a 14 year long education program; corporate experience has “gyaned” into me that some solid spreadsheet expertise and classy presentation skills with MS power point is all that it takes to “excel” in life and I was planning to let my son tread this path instead of going through the rigmarole of algebra, grammer, newton’s laws and kabir ke dohe. Of course, sensibility prevailed in the form of my wife and it took just one afternoon conversation to start preparing an illustrious list of “school” with pros and cons.

The next couple of weeks were really interesting. This is when it dawned into me that almost everyone in my apartment complex is only talking about schools. I realized this topic was always on, but in the past I only heard all that I wanted to hear. It is amazing, the interest and enthusiasm with which parents (most often the moms) talk about their analysis on schools. They go like…this school has a student to teachers to class room ratio of 18: 2.75: 3.015 and I reckon this is bloody good. And another one goes… this school starts IIT coaching from class 5 onwards and you are either guaranteed an admission into IIT or into a top school in the US. And as I hear all this, I go like…damn……why dint my parents think of all this…look what they did to me!

After all the analysis and paralysis, my odyssey into the first school admission process began. Kavita ensured I am well groomed, clad in a neatly ironed attire and hair well kempt so that when I present myself as a parent, I get an instant respect and possibly an admission as well. The last time I went so early only to stand in a long line of forlorn people is when I went for my US visa some ten years ago. To beg and plead for an “admission” into a place that does not hesitate much to show its displeasure in having you, comes naturally to me. I had rehearsed at least a hundred times on the hierarchy of classes- nursery to mont1 to mont 2 and in the most husky voice possible asked for an admission form to mont 1. And then followed it up with the obvious question (which is a strict protocol in this procedure)…my son would be 3 years and 10 months and 5 days and 20 hours at the time of admission – so will it be ok. The lady at the counter did some math in her head and followed it up with a half nod. I think the single most proof that the person you are in conversation with is least interested in you is if she responds with a half nod. I am ok with the full nod or even the blink of the eyes gesture…but half nod…huh! But here again having gotten used to this response from numerous women to whom I have expressed my “feelings”, I went ahead and picked up the admission form.

And there I was going over the admission form and what baffled me the most was this innocuous column that read “Parents salary”. I mean…really…I never thought I would be put in a predicament where I am forced to flaunt an embarrassing number in my life. I think there should be a protocol…two numbers that you should never ask one in a public forum – the salary and then the waist size. So, I went ahead put in this “number” and added a footnote – “salary hike expected very soon”. The footnote of course was put in with an honest effort to “better” the chances of an “admit”.

But really…a salary figure for an LKG admission! Boss…if you are reading this, please please …give me a good rating this year end. I think…it is just a matter of time before schools go like…am sorry, you have been an under performer this entire year and I am afraid I can’t give a nursery admission to your kid!

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