<$BlogDescription$>




<$BlogItemBody$>


<$BlogItemTitle$>


E-mail this post



Remember me (?)



All personal information that you provide here will be governed by the Privacy Policy of Blogger.com. More...



<$BlogItemBody$>


<$BlogItemCommentCount$> Responses to “<$BlogItemTitle$>”

  1. <$BlogCommentAuthor$> 

    <$BlogCommentBody$>

Leave a Reply

      Convert to boldConvert to italicConvert to link

 


About me

  • I'm <$BlogOwnerNickname$>
  • From <$BlogOwnerLocation$>
  • <$BlogOwnerAboutMe$>
  • My profile
    The game is almost over, about time you acknowledge me.. or do you want to go down without knowing who got you?

Last posts

Previous posts

Archives

Links


ATOM/RSS feed


-->

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

A Question, golf and 'if you come today'.

The Unanswered Question

X: I talked to Y sometime back. She said I'll be fine when I leave blogging. She is quite sure about it. I tried so many times. Nothing happened. I NEED to write. Even if the blog is as crappy as "I love rain sprayed hair". I am not a copy writer. I cannot weave beautiful stories. Or incomprehensive poems. My blog is not a waste of space right?

G: He who builds according to every man's advise will have a crooked house. If you think your blog is a waste of space, it probably is. Do not ask others, they will never tell you. Everybody would tell you what they think is appropriate. You cannot please everyone. There always will be someone criticizing you for the action that you take. Concentrate your energies on pleasing yourself. People would talk behind your back. Fuck em, they do not know the fuckin half of the story.

The day G was proved wrong

G was in Bangalore for some work during the weekend. Good city, better weather and pubs galore. So anyway G had to go to Le Meriden and the rented car was to come late that day. So G hailed an auto rickshaw.

G: Le Meriden?
Rickshaw: Ain?
G: Erm... Leee Meridien?
Rickshaw: Don't know sir.
G: Opposite Bangalore Golf Club.
Rickshaw: Oh, okay.

So G got into the rickshaw and soon they were cruising through MG Road. G noticed that all the places there, the shops, restaurants etcetera have a signboard, depicting the name in English and the script which G is assuming to be Kannada. And on most of the boards, the latter had a greater font size than the former. So yeah, G was observing the boards when he got a feeling that they just took a wrong turn. But G was not sure though cause he thought that the rickshaw was probably taking a short cut and also the thought of discussing this with the rickshaw driver did not seem ideal as he obviously understood very little English or Hindi. Bad move. Soon the rickshaw halted to a stop.

Rickshaw: Sir.
G: What?
Rickshaw: Bangalore club.
G: What? I said Bangalore Golf club.
Rickshaw: This is Bangalore 'girls' Club.
G: Kya? I said GOLF club not GIRLS club. Don't you know Hotel Le Meridien?

By this time G was getting furious and had raised his voice. The rickshaw, probably not used to people screaming at him; what with the soft spoken geeks everywhere in the city; reciprocated.

Rickshaw: Don't you know where it is?
G: I don't, if I knew would I have let you bring me to the wrong place? *Almost a whisper* Dumbfuck!
Rickshaw: If you don't know then how would I know?
G: You are a fuckin rickshaw driver, rickshaw drivers are supposed to know where places are. Holy fuck! Would you want to consult with the other rickshaws and take me to the appropriate place?
Rickshaw: *grunt*

He then drove up to another rickshaw and they discussed something in Kannada. All I understood in the conversation was Le Meridien, Bangalore Golf club and Sanky/Shanky Road. After speaking to this rickshaw for about two minutes, the rickshaw started moving again. And this time when it stopped it was at the correct place. Aww fuck. Stop asking dumb questions about signals. Eitherways.

G: How much?
Rickshaw: You confused me, you gave me the wrong address. This is Sanky/Shanky road. You should have told me about Shivaji Nagar area.
G: I do not know all that, I am not from here. How much?
Rickshaw: You gave me the wrong information by saying Bangalore Club.
G I DID NOT say Bangalore Club. I said Bangalore Golf Club.
Rickshaw: Yes, that's what. This is not Bangalore Golf Club. This is Bangalore Gaalf Club.

G was stunned when he heard that. So he was driven to the wrong place because he did not speak in the elite Kannadiga accent. G cursed his stars and conceded that it was his fault and moved on.

So next time you are in Bangalore and wish to go to Le Meridien, tell the rickshaw that you wish to go to ' Bangalore Gaalf Club'.

And yeah most of the conversation with the rickshaw took place in bad English and Hindi.

Also, this is the same city which saw crazy riots when the legendary actor Raj Kumar passed away. Follow the link to sample the greatness of this actor.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqGSA4n3kMo

Monday, December 04, 2006

Prof G Speaks yet again...

Today, professor G will give you a brief lecture on how to survive a mob of raving maniacs.
So you start the day at 08:00 in the morning which gives you sufficient time since you have to report to work by 10:30. You go through your morning rituals and wait for the colleague whom you usually travel to work with. You are enjoying your greasy instant noodles when he calls up to inform you that he would not be coming to work today since his stomach is spearheading the non co-operation movement. You ask him to take care and hang up. You wash the noodles down with a glass of tang and head to work. You then hail a rickshaw and give him directions to your workplace.

So you are now on your way to work, your last for the week since you are going to New Delhi the next day. You think about those cold mornings that you had woken up to in that beautiful city when you were there for your cousin's wedding. You think of those midnight spins around the India Gate area followed by your second round of dinner at 'parathe wali gali'. Your mind is lost in the web of beauty spun by the capital city when you notice the choke. You curse out loud and get in a discussion with the rickshaw driver on how the roads of Bombay are so cramped. You talk to him about the wide Delhi roads with room for further expansion. You sigh. What you see next makes you kinda uneasy.

You see a huge mob of people heading from the opposite direction. They are carrying some multi colored flags and some weird insignia. Before you realize it, the rickshaw is swarmed by the mob as the protestors try to make their way through it. You are not usually easily shaken but you feel very uneasy today and your thumbs start to twitch. There is an artificial fire in the eyes of each and every protestor. The anger is not genuine. It is of the forced variety. The kind that stems out of frustration and boredom. These are people with bad jobs and lots of free time in their hands. They cannot afford to go to swanky multiplexes or the glitzy clubs so they seek entertainment in eve teasing, rioting and being a total jackass. These are people with no real power over life, and thus when they find themselves as a part of a mob, they get drunk blind by their new found strength. They start believing that they are one of those cool mushroom-cloud laying motherfuckers who can make the world go round in the other direction. They start to believe that they are an unstoppable force. What do they say about little knowledge being a dangerous thing? They probably have not heard that. And they probably do not know that there always is a motherfucker at the top who can wipe that strength out of your existence in one fell swoop. But anyway, as of now, you concentrate on calming your nerves and stopping your thumbs from twitching.

Just then a guy, not more than 20, probably a waiter at one of those shady bars, peeks into the rickshaw and starts swearing at the rickshaw driver. He asks him to stop and tells him that its a 'bandh' today. He threatens to hit him if he does not get out of the rickshaw. Then he looks at you and asks you to get out of the rickshaw too and walks away. This is going to get bad unless you do something. Your mind starts racing as on what can be done. The easy way out would be to pay the rickshaw and get the fuck out of here, but easy ways have always poked your conscience. You just cannot leave the rickshaw in the mess and go especially since he is there in the first place because of you. You look around and then see one mini-leader kind of the person walking towards the rickshaw guiding a smaller group. This one is an experienced man and seems to be less angry and more sane than the rest. When he is passing by you, he guides the people following him to steer off the rickshaw. You then speak in the little Marathi that you know.

"Bandh aahe kaai?"

"Ho, pan gaadi band naahi."

Saying that he gets in front of your rickshaw and paves way for your rickshaw to go. The mob lets the rickshaw pass and you heave a sigh of relief. You notice that the rickshaw driver is shivering and you let out a li'l laugh.