10 Disadvantages of being a Male

It is not easy being a man. Today when India is hit by a tsunami of Feminism, the men stand at crossroads. Should we jump in too and let go the flood of tears we have been holding since decades? We too have problems with the way the world and nature treats us. It is just that we bear our burdens in silence.

Here are the 10 biggest disadvantages of being a male.

No homemaking

There are times when we don’t feel like slogging. There are times when we are tired of wiping our boss’s spit from our face when he has finished shouting. We have to carry on the mundane task of being a cash machine. We are not even allowed to think about the alternative of letting our wives take that responsibility. How we wish to puff those pillows, dust those expensive showpiece, make dinner, raise our kids and be a perfect homemaker, but all those are distant dreams.

The Tennis Ball

Do you realize the kind of pressure we undergo when Momma and Mate pull us from both the ends? We are not allowed to sit and watch the tennis match between the two ladies because we are that ball. That ball, which is smacked violently and repeatedly in this never-ending match. We are supposed to take sides. Our eardrums hurt.

Road runner

There is always a war on the roads in India. A woman driver is given space and respect because everyone in her vicinity thinks that they will die otherwise. Men on the other hand have to jostle for each and every inch of a road amidst roaring honks and glaring swearwords. We are all Gladiators ready to beat the daylights out of each other.

Probably a rapist/child molester

We are at the end of our tethers trying to duck every woman and child out of our way. A slight brush of our hand on a woman’s skirt and we might be under a hailstorm of sandals. We might talk to a child with a smile and we might end up being pasted to the road by the his father’s SUV. Do you know how straining living like this is? We are a human bomb walking on needles. Of course there is the other end of the spectrum too, but they are more animals than men.

Shares. Stocks. Bonds. Budget.

Men are supposed to act smart. Even if we believe that shares are sung in a Mushaira and Bonds is the name given to all the girls who bonded with James Bond, we are supposed to act like Harshad Mehta. We should follow the rise and fall of the stock market like a Bollywood actress’s bosoms in a dance number. The latest budget should be on our tips if we want some respect.

Under a lens. Always.

Ever since we open our eyes, we are under constant scrutiny. Our parents burden us with all their unfulfilled dreams as if we are a cargo ship. Then we spend the rest of our lives dodging our wives as they suspiciously go through our shirts for a whiff of an affair, our bosses as they take a smelly dump on our career and our children who start treating us as losers the moment they develop sex organs. When we are old, the nurse treats us as an unwanted cockroach that she is too scared to crush under her feet. Ditto for our children.

Sports Journal

Even though the only sport we are good at is the in-the-night-no-control types, we are supposed to have passionate knowledge about a sport, preferably cricket. God forbid if we confess that we are not interested in it or do not remember the color of the underwear Sachin wore in an unforgettable 1993 series, we will be immediately shunned like a woman carrying an illegitimate child. Knowing about Soccer, Baseball and Rugby is an added advantage. It is not easy to be a walking encyclopedia on sports when all you really like is burgers and breasts.

The rise and fall of Junior

The problem with junior is that it is like an alien entity attached between our legs. Like the Ring of the dark Lord, it has a will of its own. It sometimes rises with the Sun and refuses to subside. It refuses to rise and shine when it is actually required to because of performance issues. It rises at the most inappropriate of places and thus has to be covered up with whatever props we can muster – a book, a lost puppy, a bowl snatched from a beggar. Compare this to women – they might be aroused even in a funeral and not a single soul will know. They could be walking on the street, sitting in a bus or sleeping in a room full of guests and no one will ever point at a hill between their legs and laugh. Oh! The pleasure of that freedom!

Facade

Since childhood we are brainwashed into being a real man who don’t cry, who does not take but give emotional support and who can break a jaw at the drop of a hat. Basically we should be robotic providers who do not go beyond a Hmmm when our children run towards us screaming that they have been selected in IIT. It is taxing. We feel desperately like crying at times, we sometimes wish we could treat our children as friends, sit with our wives and pour our heart out but we can’t. We feel unmanly with the mere thought of it. Instead we get drunk and scream swearwords at strangers on roads.

Dispensable. Always.

Yes! She could have saved him!

What boils our blood is that whenever a tragedy strikes or there is a war, we are the ones who are left to die. Women and children are the first ones to be saved. If time and situation permits, men are given a thought. Remember when the Titanic sank? Men were left on that sinking shit while women and children sat on lifeboats and saw the show. Rose had a whole goddamn wooden plank! Why are we always so dispensable? Just because we are in excess and selectively chosen over girls to live does not mean we don’t have a life and can be treated like a street dog.

So you see, it isn’t all that rosy for us men too. The world has been subjugating us in its own way. Nature have had it’s revenge too as we can’t even have pleasure at our own convenience. We are living in unbreakable molds like a Mummy and there is no escape.

[image from 1,2,3]

Sensitization begins at home

We are contrary creatures, us humans, but that isn’t something we need to be afraid of, or even much troubled by. And if you make a list of those people who worship consistency, you’ll find they are one and all tyrants or would-be tyrants. Ruling over thousands, or over a husband or a wife, or some covering child. Never fear contradiction. It is the very heart of diversity.

- The Bonehunters (Malazan Book of the Fallen)

A few days back, I overheard a conversation between two Software Engineers. Both of them were discussing rape cases and laughingly agreed with each other that 95% of the rape cases are consensual. I am sure that they kept a window of 5% open in case a female member of their own family gets raped. Such females can then be conveniently boxed in the category of 5% women who are tamed and belong to well-to-do families but who are victims of the evil. Mind you, these are extremely well-educated men working in an MNC and earning a handsome salary, who like going to a pub and like getting drunk, who despite being married will stare at a woman’s buttock as she passes by, who snigger at a woman driving a car. This well-educated category of urban Indian male also believe that any woman who does not belong to their family are objects and possible prostitutes and leave no stone unturned in blaming the victim. They forget the fact that a stranger might be having similar thoughts about a female member of their own family.

The bad news is that education has nothing to do with changing mindsets. Education cannot teach the idea of respecting a fellow human. But then what can? Baring a minuscule population of India, a large unbelievable chunk is deeply entrenched in the swamp of patriarchy. The rot is so deep that we will not be able to see a change in our lifetime. Patriarchy glorifies the act of controlling another human’s life. The acts of crime against women that we witness in modern India are illegitimate offspring of patriarchy. Respect has to be treated as gender neutral and so should be freedom to make choices. 

Can we make a beginning somewhere?

It is extremely difficult to change the mindset of an adult. Two adults can react differently to the same situation. For example, consider a man who has seen his father as an authoritative figure all his life. It is possible that such a man carries his father’s legacy and treats his own wife as a subordinate. It might also be possible that he reacts to the suffering of his mother and when the time comes, treats his own wife with all the dignity and equality she deserves. But where does the distinction comes from? What are the factors that decide the path a man would finally take?

In the end it all boils down to how much contradiction can you swallow as a human. How much is the magnitude of your fear for a thought or an act that contradicts your beliefs? Are you willing to let go and ready to open the cage that was meticulously built around you? Ironically, a majority of us do not acknowledge the presence of a cage. It has melted so deeply into our psyche that we fail to feel its presence. It is embedded in us. A monster that lurks silently.

Sometimes I wonder that if gender inequality is such a pressing issue, why can’t our government work towards bringing up a more gender sensitive next generation? Why can’t we set up mandatory sensitization sessions for all the newly wed couples? Why don’t we put a huge fine if the couple fail to attend these sessions? Why can’t we arrange similar sessions for all the parents with children in the age group of 0-10 years? I don’t believe reactive measures are the correct way to approach the issue. What we need are preventive measures in place so that the next generation don’t end up like those two software engineers.

I see that as our only hope. Unless the present lot of parents understand the idea of bringing up their daughters and sons at an equal footing, no amount of punishments or laws are going to work. We have to make sure that our next generation is not as messed up as the present one. Otherwise this is a vicious cycle and there is more never-ending, unimaginable traumas coming our way for years. 

A majority of women in this nation do not know what real freedom is. The irony of mankind is that we have used the very act of creating life to abuse women and then blame them for it. It is similar to cutting a tree that sustains life and then blaming it for being in the middle of the road. 

We have to bend this devious road or there won’t be any trees left.

[This is an entry to Indiblogger's iDiya Contest]

http://www.isb.edu/idiya/

image from here

If God had not given us the sense of touch

We would have not known goosebumps by a child’s touch.

We would have beaten up a child and he wouldn’t have cried much.

We would have kissed without our hearts managing a flutter.

We would have sought new forms of tortures that served us better.

We would have held hands and not felt sensations.

We would have sprayed bullets and death would have danced sans afflictions.

We would have lost stirring of love and the warmth of passion.

We would have thrown acid on a sleeping woman and turned her painlessly ashen.

We would have not known the tenderness of an embrace

We would have not known a stinging slap on our face.

We would have not felt our feet going numb in snow

We would have not known the blinding Sun’s burning grow.

We would have not smiled at the wetness of the rain.

We would have been stung by bees without the pain.

We would have not known a tear sliding silently down with a dream.

We would have burnt a bride and she would have died without a scream.

We would have not known when winds had gathered around.

We would have bled to death without knowing the searing pain of a wound.

We would have feared death and not the pain that comes before it.

We would have welcomed life sans the fear of pain that bore it.

We would have been equals as endurance would have no gender.

We would have lived in a different world where touch had no splendor.

[image from here]

The boy who did not believe in love

Up was Down

On 16 Feb, 2013 Geet and I completed three years of our married life. Doesn’t sound like a big achievement, does it? After all there are couples who have spent 50 years together, where the last 10 years of their togetherness have been spent revisiting the potty training manuals, taking sagging body sponge baths via a nurse, exchanging dentures during dinner and spending half of the day getting up from the chair.

But these three years of togetherness are an achievement. Especially for a guy who never believed in love. I have seen too many marriages breaking apart around me, too many husbands beating up their wives, too many couples making compromises to believe otherwise. This notion was ingrained in me that no matter how high you are on the initial euphoria, the effect of the drug finally subsides in the morning. Your love life becomes a part of your routine and you get on with it like you get on with brushing your teeth.

I was almost 30 and Mom and Dad were panicking because they thought that their crossing-into-middle-age virgin son was going to die a virgin. It was the most terrifying year of my life when I had to finally make a decision. After all it involved another human being and I have to give up the freedom of farting noisily in my bedroom. Too much was on stake. My father created my profile in a matrimonial website and put up a really ugly picture of mine on display. On a scale of Sunil Shetty to 10, I looked like Tushar Kapoor. I went completely numb in the cold matrimonial waters, just like the survivors of Titanic. My virginity ship was about to sink and I watched helplessly as my feet grew cold.

M friends told me that it takes 2-3 years to find a bearable bride and given the fact that I looked like a cross between Mamta Banerjee and Prabhu Deva in my matrimonial photo, I extended the duration to 4-5 years and went in my crypt. But Gods had something else in mind. Within a month my parents sent me a girl’s picture (I was in Manchester then) and told me that she was perfect.

“Did she see my photo on the website?” I asked in a state of shock. The ship was sinking too fast.

“She did.”

“Are you sure she is not blind?”

I was told that there was a 33/36 match on our horoscopes and I have to stop being an idiot and talk to her. Now this was a turning point. Not that my parents had never called me an idiot but the horoscope match was too perfect. My ghosts of doubts were returning and whispering me to back out. They reminded me that I was incapable of falling in love. Now before you jump to conclusions, what the ghost meant was that I was emotionally incapable of carrying a relationship of such magnitude on my shoulders simple because I did not believe in that gesture. Secondly, what will my friends think? After all, I had distributed such pearls of wisdom like – How can two people stay together their entire lives? I will be bored to death! Ugh!

Anyways, I saw her photo and there was a sensation in certain parts of my body. Like near my heart. Let me clarify that it wasn’t lust that prompted me to talk to her. I know better than getting aroused over a photo of a fully dressed female. It was just instinct. We talked how two strangers will talk when they talk for the first time. I tried to be funny and failed and walked into a wall during our conversation. It was a good conversation.

Geet tells me that she had fallen for me during the one month we talked on the phone. I liked talking to her but nothing else happened. I don’t know why but I finally said yes.

The fact was that both of us were scared. When we moved to Manchester 15 days after we got married, I was taking deep breaths. But those were such incredible days. I rediscovered myself. I realized that my heart was capable of melting, that my eyes were capable of gleaming, that my legs were capable of going weak,  that I was capable of falling in love, that I would not die of poisonous gases if I don’t fart.

In college, Geet was the kind of girl who would stop talking to you if you ask her to be your girlfriend. She treated me like a lizard that has suddenly dropped in her lap from the ceiling when I tried to give her an innocent peck on the first day of our marriage. Like me, she too had her own battles to conquer. I waited patiently for her to come around. I worked on our friendship.

Now that I look back, I cannot imagine the last three years without her. I married a stranger and fell in love with a friend.  When I think of my marriage, I think of The Black Pearl, that was rocked upside down to be transported back into the land of the living at sunrise. Now wasn’t that lucky that ‘Up was Down’?

p.s. I am looking forward to exchanging my dentures with Geet. That way, if we are left with one chocolate and she eats it all, I can still after-taste it.

[image from here]

Strike Daddy is hiring!

Wanted – Strike Care Executives (SCE) to carry out systematic and methodological strikes of varying degrees in India and abroad.

Company Profile – Strike Daddy is a reputed firm that has an elite list of clandestine clientele who firmly believe in strikes and its positive outcomes. Our clients include prominent political parties, businessmen and unions. We specialize in organized strikes and are an OSMMI (Organised Strike Maturity Model Index) Level 5 company. Our success rate is 100% with a variance of +/- 5%. Our annual turnover (not including the black money) is 2000 crores per year which makes us the Number One Strike Specialist of India. We have been awarded the coveted Best Strike Organizer award by the ISU (International Strike Union) 4 times in a row from 2008-2012.

Job Details –

SCE-TV (Trainee Vandals) We are hiring inexperienced staff for our operations all across India. Field experience in an established company is not required. However, the aspirants must provide proof of roadside squabbles/fist fights/gun fights etc. Applicant should have failed in at least one class in his/her school. People who have not completed school and who aspire to become politicians will be preferred. Please do not apply if you look like Bollywood actor Imran Khan. Experience : 0-6 months

SCE-AV (Associate Vandals) : Applicant should have relevant work experience in a reputed Strike Organization (SO) firm. It is mandatory to carry a copy of all the FIRs lodged against the applicant. Applicants with more than 5 FIRs will be given preference. Applicant should have at least 1.5 years of field experience which must include one or more of the following activities – burning of public vehicles, smashing windows and doors of offices, manhandling/beating common man, shouting slogans, clash with police. Genuine photographs showing the applicant indulging in the above mentioned acts will be accepted. Men can also submit proofs of molestations/rape charges. Experience : 6 months – 3 years

SCE-SV (Senior Vandals) : In addition to a relevant work experience in a reputed SO firm, the applicant should have a field experience of at least 5.5 years. The applicant should have spent at least one year in jail (need not be a continuous one year term). The applicant should be a political aspirant and should have at least 2 rape charges (NA for women applicants), 10 molestation charges (NA for women applicants), 5 murder/kidnapping/black-marketing/dacoity/corruption charges pending against him/her in various courts in India. It is mandatory for the applicant to have bashed at least 2 policemen. Must have lead to the death of at least 5 people by a traffic jam or a train delay. Experience : 3 years – 7 years

Documents required – Applicants should bring substantial proofs like photographs, newspaper clippings (containing name or a clear picture of the applicant), hospital bills, television report clips (showing applicant in a clear view), FIR reports, Court case documents, Jail term proofs etc. Please note that witness accounts are not acceptable. Please do not bring broken teeth/chopped fingers/skin fragments/ears/tongue/eyeballs of your victims as proof.

Selection Procedure – We use advanced SST (Simulated Strike Tests) to evaluate the applicants on a point based exam. We use cut edge technologies like SSM (Scream Shrillness Meters), FCM (Fight Capacity Meters), AC (Animalism Capacitors), PE (Pyrophobia Evaluators), ECBCM (Effigy Creation & Burning Capability Model) etc to judge the capacity of the applicants to become a reputed Strike Care Executive. There will be group discussion rounds. Dummy Knives, stones, tree stumps, hockey sticks, swords and pistols will be provided for the same. Please do not bring any personal equipment.

Training Details – Our various level of SCC (Savage Creation Certifications) are specially designed to give you the required boost in your career. Based on your relevant years of experience, you can get a certification from Level 0 to 5. In addition to regular theory classes in strike procedures there are practical coaching by celebrity Strike Care Executives (SCE) as well. In the end of the induction course, there is an internship for 2 weeks with a reputed SCE before a final evaluation and project assignment.

Job Application Details – Walk-ins on 4th and 5th March 2013 in our headquarters in Noida, which is the best location for hands-on experience. If you are not able to attend the walk-in, please send your resume to fire&ash&guns&cash@strikedaddy.com.

Handsome salaries available. Opportunity to work in various locations in India with reputed clients. Onsite opportunities also available.

Chocolaty boys and Chui-mui girls need not apply. If you have been rejected in the last 6 months by us, don’t push your luck and make us come after you by applying again.

[image from here]

The Director’s Cut

I am a director. My vision has given wings to stories, flesh to characters and panache to words. I do not have a cinematographer, a costume designer, an art director, a make-up artist, a special effects supervisor. I do that myself. Alone.

I have the power to dissolved away my surroundings. I have the power to be deaf to tyres scraping on roads, to honks hammering my ear drums, to mouths producing conversations, to songs blaring out of machines. There are times when the car dismantle around me – strips of metal fly away, the seat dissolve beneath me, the humans vanish in fumes – and then I am sitting alone, ready to direct my movie. Ready to be devoured by what I love the most. My private universe.

I open the book and my fingers melt into the pages and then I am somewhere else. I am a time traveler.

The idea was breathing with me. It was not planted but surfaced at the right time. It took time to evolve but soon I was directing books instead of reading them. It started in the 90s. Like the rest of India, I was awestruck by DDLJ and my directorial debut was a Shahrukh-Kajol starrer named The Heir of Redclyffe by  Charlotte M. Yonge. Tears trickled down my cheeks when Guy Morville (played by SRK) dies of a fever leaving a widowed Kajol behind. Yes, such was the magic of my directorial debut. SRK and Kajol played numerous important roles in the classics like The Wuthering Heights (although I replaced them with Hrithik and Kareena in a remake later), Rebecca, Gone with the wind, Anna Karenina, The Scarlet Letter etc. The list is endless. While SRK and Kajol reached the heights of stardom by featuring in my movies, Aamir was as usual sulking. So, I threw an occasional Barnaby Rudge and Jude the Obscure towards him. You might throw a spear of a question towards me asking why were Bollywood actors playing Caucasian roles? It was, dear readers, an alternate reality. It was supposed to be insane.

It wasn’t just the classics where the Bollywood actors were shining. SRK (!), Kajol (!) and Saif came together for The Fountainhead. Who played Ellsworth M. Toohey, you may ask. Nasseruddin Shah. Movies like The English Patient, Sphere, Birdsong, The Bind Assassin, 1984, Life of Pi etc kept coming out with Bollywood actors till the director in me outgrew the SRK-Kajol pair and wanted something more. I wanted to work with Foreign actors. And thus started an era of movies where I worked with Jack Nicholson, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in A Finkler Question, Japanese actors in Memoirs of a Geisha, Black actors in The Colour Purple and countless other movies.

Soon afterwards, my nation started calling me back and I did The Immortals of Meluha with Hrithik as Shiva. A new idea was germinating. I wanted to go for collaborations. Sometimes blind ones. I picked up The Wheel of Time. It was an epic 14 books fantasy series and a huge star cast was required. I had no idea what the story was and hence I randomly assigned actors. It was a gamble but it created results seen never before on the screen. Katrina was paired opposite Brad Pitt. She almost fainted at the proposition. Kareena became the Amyrlin Seat (after uprooting the wicked Angelina Jolie) with a lost puppy of a Matt Damon trailing her. Yes, who would have thought? Priyanka Chopra ended up as Bradley Cooper’s sister. There were minor hiccups like Aishwarya Rai falling in love with Amitabh’s character, but then we were playing blind, weren’t we?

I had tasted blood.

I read A Song of Ice and Fire Series next and had an equally enchanting star cast lined up. And then The Malazan Book of the Fallen happened. It was strange to see Amitabh and Hrithik playing Gods. It was strange to see Rani Mukherjee and Tobey Maguire together in a scene with A.K. Hangal in the background. It was strange to see Aishwarya playing Empress Laseen talking to Sergeant Whiskeyjack played by Arnold. It was strange to see Ashmit Patel (a slave and a mistake) trying to calm down a weeping emperor played by Johnny Depp. It was strange to see Kareena commanding an army with George Clooney standing next to her as a sergeant and then she goes ahead and kills Kristen Stewart of Twilight fame (they played sisters).

In the end it is not just about the actors but about the visualization – the costumes, the makeup, the backdrop, the special effects, the music and the acting. It is about watching a book and enjoying the experience. I assume it is an art we all possess but the limits vary.

This is another reason the movies in the real world never live up to the books. I have already created them in vivid details in my mind. I have already seen them. I have already directed them.

Nothing comes close to the joy of carrying a world at my disposal in my brain. There are moments while turning pages when I forget that I am turning them, when I forget that I am physically outside the book, when nothing exists except the screen.

[images from 1,2,3,4]

The Zoo of Democracy – Guest Post on KayEm’s blog

It is a zoo of wonders, the first of its kind. It is a necessity too. Where else can we keep all those dangerous, carnivorous animals we have caught? The funding is clandestine but everyone knows where it comes from. There are enough madmen in the country with a lot of money.

It is named – The Zoo of Democracy.

So, one fine day I asked my wife if she would like to go out for a picnic. The new Zoo of Democracy was the latest attraction added to the many attractions of Delhi and I was hearing amazing reviews of it.

What happened at the zoo?

Who was that guide wearing a saffron shirt, white trousers and green shoes?

Jump to KayEm’s blog to read more – The Zoo of democracy.

The day Gods were Arnab-ised

Arnab looks at the camera and gives a triumphant smile. He feels like the king of the world. 

Arnab: Ladies and gentlemen! This is a Times Wow exclusive. Nowhere in this world, and I repeat, NOWHERE IN THIS WORLD, have you seen a debate of such a scale. Today we will talk to Gods of three religions. Yes, you heard it right ladies and gentlemen. * A pause and he stares at the screen for 3 seconds* You heard it right. Let’s call them God A, B and C. We will not be disclosing the religion they represent, neither will we be disclosing their faces. Please welcome the three Gods.

Three blank screens appear next to Arnab with God A, B and C written below them.

Arnab: “Welcome everyone to the show. Let’s start with the most important question haunting mankind. Let’s end the hide-and-seek game today. LET’S SETTLE THIS NOW AND HERE!!!! Where are all of you? Why are you not helping us? God A?”

God A: Because we are not supposed to! Unless and until a calamity of a monstrous scale happens that threatens the end… 

Arnab: OH MY GOD! You are telling me that there have been no calamities of a monstrous scale? Let me remind you sir. No! Let me remind you! 900 people died in the Mumbai riots in 1993, more than a 1000 people died in the Gujrat roits….

God B: Arnab, he meant on the scale of lakhs, crores. When there is a danger of extinction of mankind, we might appear. Until then…

Arnab: *giving a Dilip Kumar expression* Might appear? Might? MigHT? MIGHT? WE HUMANS HERE ARE COMSUMING VICKS AT AN ALARMING RATE BECAUSE WE ARE GETTING HOARSE CALLING YOU FOR HELP AND YOU MIGHT APPEAR? WE ARE PUTTING LAKHS AND LAKHS OF MONEY AT YOUR FEET WHEN MILLIONS ARE STARVING AND YOU ‘MIGHT’ APPEAR?

God C: Arnab, we cannot undo what humans have done. It is your fate. We gave you brains, didn’t we?

Arnab: *Pointing at God C with a Nirupa Roy look* YOU SIR ARE THE WORST OF THE WHOLE BUNCH! Your people are killing other people since hundred of years and you are eating popcorn and watching the show! Can you sleep at night? Can you look into the mir…..

God C: Why are you blaming me, God B’s people have been destroying one nation after another since decades. What about him? Why don’t you….

God B: Hold on! My people have always fought righteous wars! They have always fought for the love of America humanity. You cannot….

God A: Hrrrrruumph! Give me a break! Both of you should have at least appeared once in a while and made things right. Look at me. I have already appeared 9 times. All you guys do is sit on your ass and….

Arnab: SILENCE! Silence! All three of you are guilty! All three of you! And stop playing your politics here. THIS IS MY SHOW! I AM THE GOD HERE! So, don’t you guys dare to fling fingers at each other. The only finger that flings on this show is MINE! God A, tell me something. Your people are goondas. They beat girls who drink. They beat couples who celebrate Valentines day. Tell me, don’t they serve drinks in heaven when you have cultural programs where apsaras dance? Don’t you have Kamdev in your cabinet?

God A: I never said any of these things are wrong.

Arnab: But YOU NEVER DID ANYTHING TO STOP IT!

God A: What do you want? I can’t bloody come every time on Earth when someone has a flat tyre to help him.

Arnab: OH MY GOD! You are comparing hooliganism and murders to flat tyres? OH MY GOD!

God A: *rolling his eyes* It was just an expression!

Arnab: Let me tell all three of you today – YOU GUYS ARE GOOD FOR NOTHING. *Inserting a sad Anupam Kher expression* I feel like an orphan today. An orphan! And I say this on the behalf of the whole humanity. ALL OF US ARE ORPHANS! WE ARE ON OUR OWN! OH MY GOD!

God B: You really don’t have to be such a drama queen. Let us speak. You have to understand that this is not how it….

Arnab: DRAMA QUEEN? YOU ARE CALLING ME A DRAMA QUEEN? YOU THREE ARE THE BIGGEST DRAMA QUEENS I HAVE EVER SEEN! Sir, let me tell you that you guys exist because of us. If we want, we can shun you all and live on our own. Tell me how it happens then. I would like to listen. Let’s finish this now and here. Today is the day. Today is JUDGEMENT DAY!

God C: Our task was to create the world. We cannot solve your problems. We can only show you the path. It is up to you to walk on it.

Arnab: So, the three of you agree that you cannot help us?

God A,B,C: Yes.

Arnab: OH MY GOD!

*another 3 second pause and then he looks at the camera*

Arnab: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we have seen incompetence at the highest level. Forget politicians. Forget the World Wars. This is the reality exclusively on Times Wow – that we are alone. We have to fight this battle of saving humanity on our own. That OUR GODS ARE NOT GOING TO SAVE US! I WILL NEVER BOW MY HEAD IN FRONT OF ANY GOD FROM NOW ONWARDS!

God A: *yawning* Arnab, why don’t you become the god for humans? You have all the characteristics. *God B and C nod in unison and pass a smile*

Arnab: STOP YOUR SARCASTIC HANKY PANKY! YOUR ROSE TINTED IMAGE HAS BEEN SHATTERED TODAY. HUMANS NOW KNOW WHAT YOU ALL STAND FOR. *looks at the camera* THIS TIMES WOW EXCLUSIVE WILL BE ETCHED IN THE MEMORY OF MANKIND TILL ETERNITY.

God C : *telepathically talks to God A and B* His face is going red. His lungs will be on the table anytime.

God A,B : *telepathically* Don’t make us laugh you idiot! He has already done enough to portray us in a bad light.

God C : *telepathically* You appear as a blank screen, you fool! And you really think people care?

God B : *telepathically* Of course not. That is one reason I haven’t turned him into Rakhi Sawant yet.

God A: *telepathically* Shall we leave?

God C: *telepathically* Oh for God sake! Yes!

*Meanwhile Arnab is still rambling*

Arnab: I AM ASHAMED OF ALL THREE OF YOU!! ASHAMED!! Do you have anything else to say before we end this show?

*Silence*

Arnab: God A, God B, God C?

*Silence*

Arnab: OH MY GOD!

Novel Updates

So one fine Sunday, I was able to sort out the jalebis of my life and parcelled my novel to a few publication houses. I was Gung-ho initially but started getting cold feet the moment I inserted fresh crisp A4 sheets in the printer. I turned into Gollum and my twin personalities started fighting.

“It’s not good enough! Give it another reading!”

“Go on. Don’t listen to him. Don’t stop now.”

The good Gollum won and the button was finally hit, printouts taken and manuscripts couriered and e-mailed. It’s all done and the trepidation is nowhere near abatement. I will give it another 5-6 months and if I do not hear anything, I will drink my tears and move to the next lot of publishers.

Now as you all are the elite readers of this blog, it is my responsibility and privilege to give you a sneak peek into the creation of this story and how I went about it. This is how it happened –

• The story is not entirely fiction. It is derived from reality but is tossed with fictional occurrences. Only the people who were involved can distinguish where one ends and the other begins. Two of them are dead.
• The story is non-linear. It begins in 2002, then moves to 2064, then to 1930, 1984, 2003, 1952, 1965 and so on. The whole span of the tale is from 1930 to 2064. Baring the main thread, the story is derived from true events till the year 2002. It takes an entirely fictional turn after that. The story is set in Dalhousie and Delhi.
• Since the story is non-linear, I was bound to make mistakes in the narrative if I was not cautious from the beginning. So, I maintained an excel sheet where I divided the whole timeline in decades (columns) and put major events for each of the characters (rows) in the respective columns with the exact year. This worked as a very helpful reference point for me. Even after all this, I tore off half of my mane writing the synopsis.
• I gave up blogging to get myself disciplined and took almost a two-year break. It took me around 4-5 months for research before I began writing the book. A major chunk of the story happens in an era I have not seen. I relied on the stories told by my grandparents (which used to be very elaborate) and a lot of material I found online about how people lived in pre-independence India. I cherish those days of research because I found things I had no idea existed; I lived memories which were not mine.
• Writing about the 50s, 60s and the 70s was a daunting task. I turned to my parents to fill me in. I had elaborate discussions with them about how people lived during those times, what they ate, what kind of movies they watched etc. I also read as much online material as I could find. Internet was a great help. I made elaborate notes.
• The most painful experience was writing about the partition. I left it for the end. I finished writing the whole book and then went back to it. I saw a few documentaries and was left disturbed for days. What we learn in our school books can never prepare us for what happened that year. I felt completely helpless when I saw an old man crying remembering how his father beheaded his sister to save her. He said he could not forget the sound of the sword striking the flesh.
• Finally after writing the first draft, I sent it to a few friends for review. Geet read it and liked the story. Poonam Sharma and Sonia Sundaram gave very positive feedback. After that I kept polishing the story for almost 8-9 months till I was completely satisfied with it.

So, that is how, ladies and gentlemen False Ceilings came into existence. I have sent it to a few publishers and the wait time is anywhere between 5-6 months. I will update you as soon as I hear something. And, so I leave you with a could-be-blurb of the story.

It was an enormous owl sitting on Shakuntala’s bedding that brought the bad news and changed her life. Years later, when the nerve ruptured in her brain, it was too late to share her secret. Her open eyes oscillated for seven days.

It wasn’t humans but dancing peacocks and steam engines guarding the horizon that elicited an emotion from Aaryan. He turned into a misanthrope when he was five.

Manohar was almost there when he gave up and crumpled like a detonated building. When he died, his grandson saw him flying because his legs were so thin.

Vinod liked female wrestling and lions hunting deer on Discovery. He had hunted for quails in the jungles of East Delhi and jumped into trams in Chandni Chowk. The adventures had to go on.

Meena sprinted like a horse and won prizes in racing competitions but no one wanted a bride who runs for a living. Marriage was fed into her as an escape to utopia that eventually choked her every dream. In the end, her coffin broke her into two.

Lipi could never make the almirah speak. The almirah had seen it all but it stood in a corner, hiding the secret in its false ceiling. And even after 127 years, the wooden radio still worked. She died listening to it.

Shakuntala, Aaryan, Manohar, Vinod, Meena and Lipi were bound by the secret for 130 years. The secret that devastated their lives as it travelled from Dalhousie to Delhi, as it travelled from 1940 to 2062.

Indian Idle

“Hello everyone! I am Nitin Haddkari and you are watching a very special episode of Celebrity Indian Idle! Please welcome our judges for tonight’s show. Our first judge is our very own number 2, Mr. Raul Gandhi…..” 

“What does Raul know about dance?” Mrs. Shukla who was sitting in the crowd whispered to her neighbour.

“Does it matter? What do Sajid Khan, Karan Johar and Mithun Chakraborty know about dance?” Mrs. Taneja replied.

“And why is Haddkari even hosting this show?” Mrs. Shukla asked.

“What else is there to do now? Besides, his hairy legs are turning me on,” Mrs. Taneja replied.

“Ummm. Me too.” 

“….Our second judge for tonight is Asaram Beg-u, who has taken out time from his busy schedule to be on this show. We had to beg for his presence because that is what he likes to see people do……”

“Christ!” Mrs. Shukla gasped.

“……….Our third judge is my driver Mansukhiya. Mansukhiya has been a loyal servant of our family from the last 20 years and is the CEO of one of my companies. So let’s have a round of applause for our judges and let’s begin the show!!”

The judges take their seats. Raul and Asaram Beg-u have quite a tussle for the centre seat but then Raul points at Rob-us Wadra sitting in the audience. Beg-u mumbles somethings like ‘bloody national calamity’ and sits on one of the side seats. Mansukhiya sits on the floor before Haddkari comes and yanks his arm and say something like ‘Are you Chu*iya?’ and pushes him on one of the seat. 

“Our first contestant is the very gorgeous Sonak-chi Sinha! She has done some amazing award-winning work last year in movies like Rowdy Rathore, Joker, Dabangg 2 and Son of Sardar! Please welcome!” Haddkari announces.

All 130 kg of Sonak-chi Sinha enters the stage in a bright red sari. The song Po-Po-Po-Po-Po fills the auditorium and Sonak-chi gargles to the tune. The audience cheer her loudly. Shatru-gun Sinha is in tears to see his baby girl do him proud.

“That was a perfect performance! Judges what do you have to say to this?” Haddkari asks the judges as Sonak-chi stands next to him chewing her finger.

“I loved it! Sonak-chi, your performance reminded me of our scams. The gargle step is so much like the way we have gargled the citizens of the nation and spit them out. Outstanding!” Raul beamed.

“It was a beautiful performance. Sonak-chi, will you come to my camp and dance with me?” Asaram ji asked shyly.

“Rubbish performance! Ye koi dance hai (Is this dance)?” Mansukhiya mumbled. There is a collective gasp and everyone stares at him. Haddkari throws his mike at him.

“Saale harami! Nikal bahar! Bahar nikal! (Bloody illegitimate! Get out! Out get!)” Haddkari screams as he drags Mansukhiya out. Sonak-chi is bawling by now.

“Khamosh!” Shatru-gun Sinha screams from the audience podium which makes Sonak-chi instantly stop and shudder.

“Sorry ladies and gentlemen! Mansukhiya will be replaced by Kanta Ben who is my maid and the Chairman of one of my companies,” Haddkari announces. Kanta Ben comes and sits next to Raul. She smells of phenyl which makes Raul dizzy. He looks at Asaram Beg-u and is alarmed by a cockroach stumbling out of his beard.

“Our next contestant is our very own silencer MaunMohan Singh!” Haddkari announces.

MaunMohan Singh enters the stage and waves at the audience. He then proceeds to stand in the exact middle of the stage and stares at the audience for two minutes. He then looks at Haddkari and says – done. Raul is in tears by now.

“What a wonderfully poignant performance! Judges what do you have to say?”

“This was by far your best performance MaunMohan Ji. I am short of words,” Raul says wiping off his tears using Kanta Ben’s pallu. He almost faints in the process.

“You remind me so much of all those silent movies I have watched as a child. You have revived my old memories,” Asaram says wiping a sole tear with his beard.

“Aigo! Mast performance! After all, you have been practicing from the last 9 years.” Kanta Ben says.

“It seems MaunMohan ji have won the heart of our judges! Our next performance is a belly dance by the one and only Baba Rum-de! Please welcome!”

Baba Rum-de enters the stage and performs a unique belly dance called Kapalbhati where he flips alternate coins on his belly. He then makes the coins jump in air as the dance becomes fierce and his belly quivers alarmingly. One of the coin lands in Asaram’s beard and kills the cockroach residing there.

“That was one sexy performance Babaji. Lets ask the…..,” Haddkari said.

“You killed him! You bloody killer! You killed Abhimanyu!” Asaram was up on his seat before Haddkari could complete his sentence.

“Who in seven hells is Abhimanyu?” Raul asked.

“The cockroack,” Asaram said sobbing.

“Why did he name his pet cockroach Abhimanyu?” Mrs. Shukla whispered.

“Maybe it was his beard. The poor thing might have been lost in that chakravyuh for years,” Mrs. Taneja whispered back.

“What do you have to say Raul ji?” HaddKari asked.

“I loved it. It was very arousing,” Raul replied.

“Oh! You haven’t seen arousing yet *wink wink*. Kanta Ben?” HaddKari said.

“Mast! Mast! What a stomach! Jusht like the utensils after I clean them”

“Thank you Rum-de ji. It was an honour watching you dance. Our next participant is the sexy, the seductive, the pole-bearer Sunny le-nahi. Please welcome!”

A pole is fitted in the center of the stage and Sunny enters wrapped in a plastic sheet. The pole dance starts amidst wide eyes and rising trousers. Haddkari crosses his legs like Sharon Stone. Mrs. Shukla sighs and faints. Beg-u hides his face with his beard. Kanta Ben whispers deva-re-deva and covers Raul’s eyes with her pallu. He thrashes desperately for fresh air but chokes and faints. During the dance, the plastic sheet covering Sunny gets entangled in a nail on the pole and comes free. Kanta Ben faints too. Sunny keeps dancing. Haddkari is on all five begging for mercy. Rob-us Wadra whistles and fires shots in air from his expensive gun. The audience thrust their children under the seats. Bachelors are busy making video of the once-in-a-lifetime event. Married men stare at the ground as their wives study them intensely. Suddenly the programme goes off air.

There is an uproar on Twitter and internet about the way the programme turned vulgar in the end. A committee is organised. It is found that PoleMeBaby, the company that provided the pole used in Sunny’s performance is at fault as all this happened because of the nail. The licence of the company is cancelled.

And, of course, Sunny le-nahi wins the first prize of Celebrity Indian Idle. 

[images from 1,2,3,4]