Ouch My Toe!

Finding a play school for Rhea in Gurgaon

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 16:55:10 +0000

Our daughter is just two years and three months but keeping in with the family tradition we have decided to push her into hell when she least expects it. After all, why shouldn’t we revenge what was done to us?

Rekha’s initial list has ten play schools – play schools that made it to the quarter finals. After speaking to a few parents, reading up the internet on playschools in Gurgaon…she finalized the three semifinalists – Modern Montessori International Gurgaon, iDiscoveri Gurgaon and Kara For Kids. You probably wonder how can there be three semi-finalists? Well…in my house my wife decides…so park your thoughts please.

The first school we visited was Modern Montessori International at Sector 40 in Gurgaon. Just as we entered the gates, I heard the security guard say, “Hi….baby. What is your name?”

“I am not a baby, ok?” Rekha retorted.

“Sorry madam, I wasn’t talking to you.” The security guard responded.

I had to intervene. Rekha was finally convinced that the reason was the new face pack she had bought for Rs 800 per 100 grams.

Let me tell you that education being the money churner that it is, even the security guards are trained to ensure the right image is conveyed to the parents. We were even impressed when we spoke to the receptionist.

“Mr Jamshed, we ensure the wholesome growth of your child,” she said when I told her that we were exploring playschool options for Rhea.

The innocent girl that Rekha is…she ended up asking: “You mean, for the fee that we will pay…you will also feed her Complan, Horlicks & Bournvita?”

The receptionist didn’t respond, but directed us to the Principal’s room. Even as we turned our backs, we overheard the receptionist say to a teacher standing nearby: “I pass on the difficult cases to the Principal. She handles these rich-without-education types.”

We were amazed by the way the Principal spoke. Let me tell you…this Principal would have been a failure in the Corporate World. She was a measured talker…and didn’t speak faster than her ability to think….in a corporate she would have been branded a slow thinker. She didn’t speak loudly…she would have failed to contribute in any of the meetings. She didn’t force her views on us…which meant she would have had difficulty getting her things done in a corporate set up.

When I got out of her room, I started hating the life I had been chasing so far - so fast…so furious…so useless. Don’t believe me? Try making a conversation with a Principal of a Playschool. Now, don’t you go around sleeping around for a child…just pretend that you already have one and call up a play school.

The next day we went to iDiscoveri, Gurgaon and the experience there was also revealing….and I am NOT talking about the moms who had come there with their kids.

Being the meticulous planner that my wife is…she fixed up a meeting with the Principal of Kara for Kids, Gurgaon on the third day. Thankfully, she called them up before leaving the house and dropped the plan when she came to know that Kara for Kids, Gurgaon doesn’t have a transport system. (Though they are planning for it now).

To cut the long story short, we were impressed with both Modern Montessori International and iDiscoveri and decided to let Rhea decide. Being the adamant girl that she is…she just refused to answer the question.

Rekha repeated the question for Rhea: “Rhea, which school would you like to go to – Modern Montessori International or iDiscoveri?”

Rhea said: “Mumbo jumbo…..”

“Rhea your future relies on this decision…please don’t take this lightly. What you become 25 years later depends on this…now tell me which school will you want to go to – Modern Montessori International or iDiscoveri?”

Rhea repeated: “Mumbo jumbo…..”

The sad part about being the parent of an indecisive child is that you have to make all the decisions. We decided on Modern Montessori International.

We then went to confirm the admission in Modern Montessori International, where we were told that the fee was Rs 33,000 for the first three months of her play school tenure. There after, for every three months we had to pay Rs 15,000.

I checked with the Principal: “Madam, when I started off in Kendriya Vidhyalaya in 1984 I used to pay Rs 15 every quarter.”

“I know. I am also a Kendriya Vidhyalaya student,” The principal’s tone was assuring.

“That’s great to know. So, why is it Rs 35,000 now?” I insisted.

The principal smiled & said: “It was Rs 15 in the early 80s…in late 80s…they increased the fee to Rs 45 per quarter. Do you remember that?”

“Yes madam, I do. I also remember my mother freaking out and making adjustments in the family’s monthly budget. I think after the hike in the fee we stopped getting eggs for lunch.” I was happy I remembered my past so well.

‘Precisely my point. My assistant here will pick up the Rs 35,000 cheque from you.”

Before I could say anything, she was gone. Her walk besides the gentle sway of her hips also had a tinge of victory in it.

July 6, 2009 will be Rhea’s first day in her play school. Yes, the girl whose birth her father proudly announced on Ouchmytoe, the girl who taught her father how to shop when she was just two days old, the girl who was her father’s first walking partner, the girl who changed the rules of engagement in the house she was born in, the girl who is her father’s Super Hero, and the girl who has taught her father so many things…will be starting school tomorrow. Wish her luck.

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An Ode to Michael Jackson alias Jacko Wacko

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 02:03:25 +0000

The climax of the ‘Thriller’ is out…Michael Jackson dies of a ‘Bad’ & ‘Dangerous’ heart attack and becomes ‘History.’ I loved the guy. He was my hero for almost seven years – from 1985 to 1992.

Ikroop Singh, my fifth standard class mate in Kendriya Vidhyalaya, BallyGunge Military Camp, Calcutta in 1985 introduced me to Michael Jackson. Unable to handle the class, the teacher who had stepped in for our absent class teacher, asked if anybody could entertain the whole class. That’s when Ikroop Singh stepped out and said he could dance like Michael Jackson.

You know…I don’t think all that controversy about Michael Jackson & young boys is true…for back then I was a handsome ten-year-old and still a virgin.

The moment Ikroop Singh was done with the MoonWalk, the Glass Wall Trick and the Pulling at the Rope Trick….I wanted to see more of Michael. Back then, we didn’t have TV…leave alone a VCR. Ikroop Singh being a top Army man’s son had the video cassette of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller.’ I visited his house in Fort Williams just to see Michael Jackson perform.

Ikroop was right…this guy did dance like a melted piece of butter falling off a spoon. But I wasn’t the only guy who had been inspired by Michael Jackson. A Telugu movie director made his own Indian version of ‘Thriller’ and the video on Youtube has got 15,741,543 views (as on June 28, 2009).

On my return from Fort Williams, I told my parents about Michael Jackson.

My father asked: “Does he dance like Rajinikanth?”

“No papa.”

My father asked: “Can he dance Bharatanatyam like Kamal Hassan?”

“No papa.”

“Then, don’t waste your time behind him.” My father was serious.

For the next seven years, I wanted to be a singer-dancer like him. Not like my father stupid….like Michael Jackson. My parents didn’t know.

In 1996, I came to know that he would be visiting India. Back then, there weren’t many contests like how we have now-a-days….contests where one collects 50 crowns of Coke and stands a chance to meet the celebrity. Or use your credit card five times in a month and see the T20 World Cup final. No sire, back then you could meet the celebrity if you wanted it hard enough. I didn’t.

Michael performed at Andheri Sports Complex, Mumbai in 1996 as part of his History tour and left without meeting me.

Maybe rushes of this Andheri Sports Complex performance were shown on MTV…and that is when my father saw Michael Jackson perform. Remember, it was 1996 and we had an ECTV TV. (Suggested Reading - Television, my new friend, philosopher & guide)

What is important is the fact that my father became his fan. Rakinikath & Kamal were at the peak of their careers, but they could wait. MJ was in. MJ was cool.

He walked up to me and said: ‘Hey, I think you should try and become a performer like Michael.”

“Papa, but now my hero is Milkha Singh. I want to be an athlete and get India an Olympic Gold.”

“Are you sure? You are dark, you are frail, you have clumsy hair…now all you got to do is learn to sing and dance. That’s it!”

A week later, my father had forgotten. I was on my way to get India its first Olympic Gold.

May be, my reason to move to Milkha Singh was due to some of the jokes I was hearing about Michael. Today, if a Michael Jackson jokes originates in the US of A, it takes less than 24 hours to reach India – via mail forwards, of course. But back then, it took us ages. (Suggested Reading - When I wanted to be Milkha Singh)

Apparently, in the late 80s the comedians the World over had started to target Michael Jackson. He was an easy butt-end for various jokes…what with skin color, skin condition, child molestation controversies, his pet monkey which used to sleep in a crib inside his bedroom, his Peter Pan pretensions, his ranch called Neverland, his military clothes, etc.

The first Michael Jackson joke I heard was:

Question: “How does Michael Jackson pick his nose?”
Answer: From a catalog.

I laughed when I first heard. But deep down, I was hurt. Somebody was trying to malign my hero of seven years.

Over the next couple of years, I was told that Michael Jackson’s favorite Chinese dish was “Sum Yung Boy” and that he would have loved to work on a ship because there were so many “bouys”. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind the jokes this time. How people change.

I remember, after I got married to Rekha…Michael Jackson did make it to our conversation once. We were getting ready to go to a party and were fighting for space in front of the mirror.

“Why do men need mirrors? Don’t worry …its only the girls who get stared at and not the men!” Rekha was forcing her opinion on me.

“You should be happy you aren’t married to Michael Jackson….he would have been in front of the mirror all the time.”

“Yeah but if I was married to him, he would have gotten me a bigger, better mirror and got another one for himself.”

Our conversation ended there. I was glad she didn’t insult him. Being a die hard fan, I have every right to crack jokes on my Michael but not others.

Now that Michael is dead, I am sure he will be accepted in heaven. They accept plastic, don’t they?

Men and women ‘stress’ differently

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 03:07:23 +0000

Men and women handle stress differently. Like me, if you are also married you can go ahead and close this window….but if you aren’t married…carry on reading, these could end up being the words that will leave you a bachelor for life.

Lets start with the women first. Unlike men, they have various kinds of stress. These can be primarily divided into three types:

1) Stress due to withholding a secret
2) Stress due to ‘those 3 days’
3) Stress due to relationships

If I have missed out any, please let me know. My research on women had to be stopped midway when the women on whom I was researching refused to participate due to stress

Stress due to withholding a secret

An author once said “Women pick up more dirt from the telephone than from their vacuum cleaner.” This explains why Telecom companies get 95% of their call revenues from lady clients. Holding a secret can be a tough task for a lady, especially if the secret is about another lady.

Rekha would cozy up to me and say: “If you promise me you will never tell this to anybody, I will tell you something.” Initially, I used to promise and Rekha would share the secret immediately. Now-a-days, I make her a little impatient. I say: “If I can’t share it with anybody, what is the point…so I don’t want to know the secret.”

She would walk around the house a while, looking impatient and cozy up again, “Ok fine. You can share it with your colleagues in office…not with your apartment friends. Shall I start?”

In spite of all this, I would stand by the women folks and say that they never let out a secret - at least not the way it was told to them. Man on the other hand will always forget the spicy part of the secret and make it bland, and unworthy of gossip.

Stress due to ‘those 3 days’

This is the kind of stress that you can expect & plan for. And yet fall for it. Men all over the World get affected by this woman-stress. So much so, there are NGOs out there helping men deal with women during these tough times. One of them is PMSbuddy.com that helps men fix the dates for their girl friends & spouses and sends them warning mails 2 days in advance. Here is a typical warning mail that I get because of the warning alert I have set:

I tend to support women during this ‘period’ of stress and hear them out. Hearing them out at this stage is simple, primarily because the same tactics can be repeated month on month. Since you know that they are complaining…all you have to do is repeat this sentence: “I know I made a mistake sweetheart. I will ensure this doesn’t get repeated.”

If you are a sadistic male, this is the right time for you to list out your set of complaints.

Stress due to relationships

Among the various issues that women have, this reason for stress is the biggest. They are always worried about their ‘relationships’ with other men, women, children, elderly, in-laws…you name it and they are worried about it. Perhaps, it has to do with the “What are you doing…..what will others think?” question that every parent/grandparent has asked the girl as she was growing up.

Things that she did…like sharing of a secret…end up becoming bigger issues when done by others in the ‘relationship network’. If Rekha has shared with me the gossip that Suresh was going out with Sujatha, it was fine. But if Rekha’s friend Sonali shared the same with her husband, it wasn’t fine.

“But Rekha, you shared it with me?” I would ask her, trying to solve her problem with Sonali.

“Yes…but I got a promise from you…didn’t I?”

“Yes you did. But she could have also taken a promise from her husband.”

“No she wouldn’t have. I know her well.”

The problem is, you can’t assume that her relationship with Sonali is over. After the Suresh-Sujatha incident we met Sonali at Rekha’s office party and through out the party I tried to give a nasty look to Sonali, thinking my wife will be happy that I stood by her. But no…the moment we were in the car, Rekha asked: “Why do you hate my friends? I don’t love your friends, but I at least smile.”

For men, stress is only due to two things. Most important stress is when India (or any other country the man belongs to) loses the cricket match. The next most important is work related stress.

Since there is no solution to India losing their cricket matches, he just picks up a beer and stares at the TV till the World starts seeming fine. On the work front, his stress is pretty simple…whom should he flatter and whom should he dig a grave for. Or if the male is as old as I am, the stress is over why a pretty intern wouldn’t speak to him.

When I got kidnapped

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 05:13:41 +0000

This was the last thing I expected. I can understand when a pretty girl gets kidnapped by a rowdy for sex (read Sita getting kidnapped by Ravana) or when a rich kid gets kidnapped for money….but me? This was the heights.

It all started with an irresponsible statement by Suneet Manchanda (if you want to send him hate messages, click here for Suneet’s linkedin profile).

Last Wednesday I went to his desk in ibibo for a very innocent, “Good morning!”

He responded: “Good morning, rich guy!”

At this, one of his teammate – a young, aspiring kid who has just finished his MBA and joined ibibo looked up and asked: “Rich guy?” Why?

That’s when Suneet Manchanda let out the irresponsible statement. He said: “Did you know…behind his funny blog he has other blogs on Autos, Cricket, Mobile Reviews etc…which help him earn 100 thousands every month?”

A man (and woman) is always left wondering under such circumstances. I wondered if I should let the ignorance pass by or tell them the truth that it was only a few thousands. Ignorance is bliss, elders have said…so I didn’t open my mouth. Besides, it felt good to be held in awe.

But the problem with an appreciative statement is that everybody holds up their ear to hear your response to the appreciation – which puts you under tremendous amounts of pressure. Should you act humble and downplay it by saying something like “yeah right Suneet! Next you will say that my fingers are insured for Rs 5 crores!” Or should you pump up your chest and say something that adds more value to the pat on the back just received? Something like “Ohhh…this is nothing Suneet. I used to earn 1000 thousands every month before the recession kicked in.

Anyway, I didn’t say anything and walked away with a grin.

While walking away, I did notice a glint in the eyes of Ankur Agarwal & Abbas Zaidi, the two young MBAs who work with Suneet on Tradus.in - ibibo’s bid & buy auctions platform. Back then I didn’t realize that these kids could kidnap me and demand a ransom from my wife Rekha.

I wouldn’t tell you how these two kids kidnapped me. But I can assure you that I didn’t walk into the trap wanting an ‘ice cream.’ The gratification they offered was much bigger - a three hour meeting with Priyanka Chopra, all alone.

Once in a stinking lodge, I started to cry. They did try to console me with ice creams and pop corn but their choice of snacks showed their lack of experience in kidnapping adult clients. Beer would have made some sense.

They then called up Rekha and made her hear my cries. I was so glad Rekha didn’t ask for some proof of the kidnapping for they would have cut my ear and sent it across to her. I don’t mind losing my ear but the problem was…Rekha wouldn’t have been able to recognize my ear – she last saw it from close quarters during our honeymoon in Kumarakom, Kerala…in 2004.

Here is how the conversation between Rekha and my kidnappers go:

Ankur & Abbas: “We have Jammy…you are at our mercy now.”

Rekha: “Hmm…”

Ankur & Abbas: Do you have a piece of paper & a pen?

Rekha: “Hmm…”

Ankur & Abbas: Note down our demands…and don’t try to be smart and go to the police.

I waved to Ankur and Abbas to tell that Rekha knew about the Gurgaon police and she wouldn’t go there. But they didn’t notice.

Rekha: “Hmm…”

Ankur & Abbas: “We need twelve lakhs and five hundred and fifty rupees to release Jammy.”

Rekha: “And…”

Ankur & Abbas: And a get away vehicle – a Meter Taxi to be sent to the lodge where we are staying.

Rekha: “Is this your first kidnapping?”

Ankur & Abbas: There are two firsts in this kidnapping - first time we are kidnapping an adult. And also, this is our first kidnapping after our MBA.”

Rekha: “Not bad.”

Why isn’t Rekha panicking? Does she think that I am staging this because even five years after marriage she doesn’t allow me to own a credit card? Does she think I am staging this so that I could pay my mother the Rs 10 lakhs she has been asking for to re-do the ancestral home?

Ankur & Abbas: “You have 24 hours to give us twelve lakhs and five hundred and fifty rupees.”

Rekha: “Hmmm…”

Ankur & Abbas: “You will have to create a profile on ibibo.com, the social networking site your husband works for and send a friendship request to the ibibo ID called ‘Kidnapper007’.”

Rekha: “Hmmm…”

Ankur & Abbas: “Once you do that…we will send you directions to the place where you have to drop the money bag.”

Rekha: “Hmmm…”

Ankur & Abbas: “We will call again.”

After the call, Ankur and Abbas bought me masala dosas for the night. And to make up for the promise that I will get to spend time with Priyanka Chopra alone…they rented the movie ‘Dostana’…and left me alone in the room to watch. If only they had untied my hands, I could have switched on the DVD player.

Exactly 24 hours later, they called Rekha again.

Ankur & Abbas: “We guess the money is ready.”

Rekha: “Aren’t you assuming things?”

Ankur & Abbas: “Don’t get too smart…we can be nasty with your husband.”

Rekha: “We don’t have that much money. In fact, I have been asking him to buy a vacuum cleaner for the last four months and he hasn’t been able to buy it for me.”

Ankur & Abbas: “We don’t want to get into your domestic issues. Can you pay that money or not?”

Rekha: “No I can’t. He hasn’t even bought a single gold ornament for me ever since we have been married.”

Ankur & Abbas: “Come on girl…be strong. Pay us just 10 lakhs and get your husband back.”

Rekha: “I can’t do that. He gives away all his money to his mother and we aren’t even left with any to give to my retired parents.”

Ankur & Abbas: Rekha, we have put in a lot of effort and taken a lot of risk and you need to understand that. You need to pay us at least four lakhs and get your husband released.

Rekha: “No way. Where will I go for the money…despite me advising him against it, he spent all our savings on his sister’s marriage.”

Ankur & Abbas: “How about 2 lakhs?”

Rekha: 2 lakhs? If I had two lakhs…wouldn’t I get my daughter, who is nearing 3 years admitted in a good pre-school like Mother’s Pride?”

Ankur & Abbas: “Considering your financial problems, our Executive Board would like to convene and discuss the issue over. We will give you a call in another ten minutes.

Rekha: Just make it quick. The Idea Star Singer contest begins on AsiaNet in another 20 minutes…would be nice if we can finish this discussion before that.

After keeping the phone down, both Ankur and Abbas gave me a look I can’t forget. They then went outside to discuss things over. After 10 minutes of discussion, they called Rekha again.

Ankur & Abbas: We understand your financial troubles and have decided to give you a ninety percent discount and now you only have to fifty thousand and fifty five rupees only.

Rekha: “Trust me, I won’t be able to afford even that. I have a back up in place – I have got my husband to get a good insurance in his name.”

Ankur & Abbas: How is this insurance going to help you in this negotiation? You have no choice but t pay us.

Rekha: “You can’t arm twist me. You can do whatever you want with my husband.”

Ankur & Abbas: “Hmm…”

I didn’t know my wife was Kevin Spacey and Samuel L Jackson rolled into one (have you seen Hollywood movie The Negotiator?) Whatever her intent, she definitely was succeeding. But the million dollar question remained which of the two Ms did my wife prefer – Money or Me?

Rekha: Just out of curiosity…why was your first quote twelve lakhs and five hundred and fifty rupees? Why not just twelve lakhs?

Ankur & Abbas: “Hmm…we spent Rs five hundred on an AC cab to transfer your husband to the lodge. And Rs 50 on renting a ‘Dostana’ DVD.

Rekha: “Ohhh…ok. Why talk of what I can’t give…lets talk positive…lets talk of what I can give.”

Ankur & Abbas: “Hmm…that would be nice.”

Rekha: “I can give you five hundred and fifty rupees. What do you say?”

Ankur & Abbas: “Hmm…we will have to call you back. Is that fine?”

After keeping the phone down, both Ankur and Abbas gave me anther look. Did the negotiations break down? Will I be killed? Before I could ask them…the kidnappers left the room for discussions. Again, they came back and called up Rekha.

Ankur & Abbas: “How would you want to give us the five hundred and fifty rupees? We are fine with it.”

Rekha: “You will have to bring my husband home, and the moment you hand him over…I will give you a check for the said amount.”

Ankur & Abbas: “What is the assurance that the police wouldn’t be waiting for us in your house?”

Rekha: “Up to you…either you take the five hundred and fifty or you keep my husband.”

Ankur & Abbas: “Ok…Ok…don’t get angry. We will be there in an hours time.”

They came home, and exchanged me with Rekha for a check of rupees five hundred and fifty. Thankfully, there were no policemen inside the house…for there could have been exchange of fire…and my wife’s wall decorations would have been affected.

I couldn’t face Rekha the whole day. The next day while leaving for office, she asked: “Do you know the CitiBank customer care number? I want to put a stop payment on a cheque.”

I gave her the number…but didn’t ask which cheque this was.

Love and hate relationships with wives

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 31 May 2009 07:36:38 +0000

It has been ages since I updated you on how my married life with Rekha has been progressing. Let me break the streak and come up with a post on how “blissful” the marriage has been.

As you are already aware I am not a fan of this institution called Marriage. Perhaps, because of what I heard at the Sri Anna Poorneshwari Temple in Cherrukunnu, two seconds before Rekha and I got married.

While adjusting my silk dhoti, I heard a 10-year-old boy ask his father: “Father, why is Chandran uncle giving Rekha didi’s hand to Rajan uncle? Why are they holding hands?”

The gravity in the question appealed to me and I looked up to catch the father’s answer. He said: “Son, it’s a little like the boxing matches you see on ESPN. Have you seen the referee call both the boxers to the center and ask them to hold hands?”

After hearing that answer, I only had two seconds to change my mind, and couldn’t.

In the last five years (I think we got married on Sept 8, 2004!) I have learnt that one needs two things to succeed in marriage: Sense of humor and a very, very short memory (Not like Aamir Khan, of course!).

Unfortunately, I only have myself to blame for this marriage. If there was somebody else…I would have killed the person by now.

And it is not that talks of our marriage started with the question: “You are what? Did you just say that you were pregnant?”…we had ample amount of time on our hands to walk out, but we didn’t….which is definitely surprising.

Not that I make love with a lady in my office, come back home and say I worked like a dog in office today (if you get the hint!). That’s not true. At least, doesn’t hold true for my office.

Not that she calls up her ex-boyfriends when I am away and talks to them for hundreds of minutes/month. I checked via a friend in Airtel’s Corporate office and she has spoken to Sachin for only 77 minutes this month and with Sridhar for 93 minutes. Click here to find out their relationship.

My wife talks to me about Sachin & Sridhar, though. She gives me hints that these are the two gentlemen she could have married…but didn’t, because she wanted me to be happy. I don’t buy her story but hear her out.

If you ask me, Eve would have been the only woman, who didn’t utter sentences like: “You know…I had a choice, I could have married X.” or “Y was way better than you, but I choose you because I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Ask me why? Because Adam was the first man.

But then…knowing the women I have met in my life I wouldn’t be surprised, if Eve is known to have said: “Did you know…after making me, God wanted to marry me.”

If you are a married male, you probably know that there are only two reasons for your wife to fight with you – you and your family members. If you are a married lady…you don’t need to be told the two reasons why your husband fights with you – his wife and her family.

While Rekha and I are still figuring out how we can start loving each other…we have found a solution to love each other’s family members. For example, she loves my mother-in-law…and I adore her mother-in-law. Now, that’s a beginning. What say?

When Ram suspected Sita

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 24 May 2009 06:09:26 +0000

Sometime back I had written that after Rhea’s birth (my two year old daughter), Rekha (my God-knows how old wife) and I had started fighting for different reasons. If you missed that, you can re-read the blog post here.

So, last Friday we fought again – after 2 months.

Before leaving office at 8 p.m., I called up Rekha.

“Rekha, I will be late. I am sorry.”

“Everything fine… right? With all this recession, one can never be sure.”

“Yep. I still hold my job. Just that, I have to go out for drinks with my office top management.”

“When will you be back?”

“11 p.m., I guess. I am so sorry…wanted to be with you.”

“That’s fine. Just be careful when you drive back.”

When on a Friday evening the husband calls to say he is coming late, the husband expects some amount of sadness in the wife’s tone. But there was none. Reason for a probing question.

“What will you do till 11 p.m.?” The concerned husband in me enquired.

“Probably call up my friends after Rhea sleeps.”

I remember two men from Rekha’s life before she met me & got married.

Sridhar had studied with her in Bangalore. He had came to our marriage, got on to the stage with his gift and whispered something into my ‘brand new’ wife’s ears. He looked upset and had tears in his eyes – my newly wedded wife had also stiffened after his visit. Rekha ensured I never saw what he had gifted – perhaps, the proposal ring that he had planned to give her. I would never know.

Sachin had worked with her in her first job and he had refused to come to the marriage – perhaps because he couldn’t see Rekha in all the wedding finery, getting married to somebody else. However, a week after the marriage he did call her up and say he had bought a gift for us and wanted to drop it home. However hard I tried, I couldn’t make him smile – all my jokes fell flat. Sachin left exactly 5 minutes after entering our house….and out of those five minutes was staring at Rekha for at least three minutes and forty seven seconds.

As luck turned out, he gifted us a steam iron & an ironing board. Quite a vengeful guy, I must say. All my attempts to forget him have failed…every day in the morning I use his gift to iron my clothes.

Was she speaking to these gentlemen in my absence? Should I feign an urgency at home and NOT go out for drinks on a Friday night?

Ten minutes later – two minutes to think and eight minutes to drive – I was home.

“Ohh, you came back early. Didn’t you go for your Friday night out?”

“Are you upset that I didn’t go?

“I am not upset. I was planning to call up some friends if you were going to be late…now we can watch the Delhi Daredevils vs Deccan Chargers semifinal together.”

“Who, Radhika?” This was my way of checking if she was going to call Sridhar or Sachin.

“Some other friends in Chennai.” She replied nonchalantly.

“Do I know them?”

“Nope you don’t. But why you so curious?”

There are some times in a husband-wife relationship when hiding things doesn’t help. At least, that’s what Rekha had taught me…so I blurted out.

“Why were you not upset that I was going to be late on a Friday night – and will be coming home drunk? Was it because you could then speak to Sridhar or Sachin?”

“What are you saying? Are you mad?

“They were your boyfriends, right? Till now you haven’t accepted that they were – why would some body cry in a marriage?”

This is where Indian men and Indian women differ. For a man, it is a matter of great pride to tell his wife that he had 5-6 girl friends (men always give inflated figures) before he met her and married her. A wife, will try and keep the matters under wraps for as long as possible. “He was just a friend,” she would say.

“Rajan, believe it or not…they were just friends. And I wasn’t going to call them anyway.”

Ahh…just the reply I was expecting, I told myself. I couldn’t have let Rekha’s ears hear this suspicion.

“Then, why were you not upset?” Being a wife can be handy job if you have as suspecting a husband as I am.

“Rajan, I would have created a scene if it wasn’t for the recession. Everybody is trying to put in their best, network with people, go out on drinks and do stuff they don’t like to do themselves…just to keep their job. I understand that…so I am trying to hold your family side of life…and not give you extra pressure to handle.”

I stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Age and experience has taken away the innocence from me…so even if it was for a split-second, I did wonder if she was telling me the truth.

Innocence won. I stepped forward, tried to hug and say sorry. She just pushed me and said, the food was in the refrigerator and I could have it anytime I wanted. Before I could finish my dinner, she had slept.

Next day morning, I said sorry again. Now, things are fine on the surface, but there is a cold war simmering. I have decided to never suspect my wife with either Sachin or Sridhar, again. I am going to win her back by my love – so I am taking her to Hush Puppies store at Ambience Mall, this weekend.

Note to self: If I can lay my hands on Rekha’s call records, and confirm that she speaks to Sachin and Sridhar…I know what I will do. I will steam cook the steam iron and deep fry the ironing board. What else?

Poem: No Longer Innocent

Jamshed V Rajan — Mon, 18 May 2009 02:27:05 +0000

This was a little like summer of 69 – when the sex was dirty and the air was clean. Back then, I was young and energetic and didn’t need to eat two capsules of Spirulina (try it!) just to stay awake. Just in case you are wondering, I eat five tablets of Spirulina when I am meeting a girl in the evening.

Anyway, lets stick to important things…I have been a little busy of late and hence couldn’t come up with an article which can be claimed as ‘funny’.

What does a failed writer do in such circumstances? Does he go to great lengths to please his readers? Nope…being a sissy, I also opted for the easy way out.

Like a TV channel running cricket match re-runs during non-cricket days…here come my poems written when I was darker & had pimples on my face & ambition was to drink a whole bottle of beer without adding water and ice.

No Longer Innocent

It was her smile,
and I knew, she was looking at me
I checked myself,
my hair was in place,
the sun shone in my shoes,
I was doing good.

Our eyes met,
She blushed.
Her eyes sparkled,
on seeing me.
Am I lucky or what?

The shy girl looked down,
I followed suit.
Her innocent face…ohh..
Now she was looking at me!!
I took a step forward.

She waved a Hi,
I waved too. Twice.
Somebody behind me moved.
She walked away with him.
She no longer seemed innocent.

by Jamshed ‘Kites’ Rajan
(If Keats can exist, so can Kites!)

Jammy appears on NDTV 24×7, woos the World

Jamshed V Rajan — Sat, 09 May 2009 04:21:21 +0000

You all know that there was a time in my life when Television was my friend, philosopher & guide.

You perhaps also know that Rekha and I once used to fight for the Television remote and now fight over different issues.

You have also read how my life has been influenced by television. If no…you should read my life’s Maggi story.

Television being such an important part of my life (not as important as it used to be when I was 15…but important, alright)…it was a milestone achieved when I appeared on NDTV 24×7 last week.

It isn’t that I haven’t appeared on TV before…I have and it happened in 2006.

While the TV cameras were taking stock of the stampede that killed 200 in Chennai, my passport sized, black & white photograph which was lying on the ground next to an injured man, was on the screen…for close to ten seconds. Imagine, ten whole seconds!

Anyway, let us cut back to the present. This time, it wasn’t my photograph…it was me in flesh & bones that appeared on TV.

The moment I came to know that I would appear on NDTV 24×7, at 7.30 p.m. I called up my ancestral village and informed them. Around two hundred people congregated in front of Government donated TV that’s viewed from outside the Panchayat office - the TV is kept inside the office but near a window.

As luck would have it, NDTV 24×7 failed to air my show at 7.30 p.m.. The crowd waited patiently for one hour after which it grew restless. They would have started throwing their chappals (for that’s the latest fashion!) at the TV if they had been wearing one. Instead, they started throwing stones. The Panchayat President called me up and put me on a loud speaker to pacify the crowd – exactly the same way Sachin tendulkar is called to pacify the crowd when the Eden Gardens crowd gets restless.

After telling them that their ‘son of the soil’ will soon be on TV, I called up NDTV 24×7 and told them that their this mistake was going to cost 200 lives (and one television)…if they didn’t air me on TV soon enough.

The good people that they were, they agreed. And here goes the clip that was shown to a round of applause from people all over the World, including my small village of 200 people.

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My farewell mail while leaving Yahoo

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 03 May 2009 18:09:09 +0000

When I left Yahoo in just seven months, I had sent out a farewell mail to all my Yahoo colleagues. Today, while going through my old mails…I saw this and I have to admit that I was impressed with the farewell mail I had sent out.

Thought why not share it with you. If you want to read the funniest farewell mail ever written, you will have to click here.

Here goes the farewell mail I wrote on June 14, 2007. I have to admit that I was a creative person before the heavy work at ibibo took its toll.

———-X————-X———-

Dear friend,

My innings here in Yahoo has come to and end and shortly I will be donning my gloves for another team.

It has been quite an ODI at Yahoo – loads of action and adrenalin. Not to mention the appeals, yorkers, reverse-swings, sliding stops and powerplays which have made the seven months all the more exciting. Yahoo! India has been a perfect batting pitch and I have to admit that my stint at the crease has been enjoyable.

Unlike the world of Faster, Stronger, Higher at Yahoo! Sports, my new venture would be less glamorous. I will be helping build internet based products for a start-up based out of Gurgaon.

Now…for another venue and another match. Wish me luck.

Cheers,
Jammy

Mail ID: jv.rajan@yahoo.com | jv.rajan@gmail.com

PS: If you come across a book titled ‘Ouch my toe!’ someday, please buy it - you might be helping a poor author make some money. Till then, check out http://www.ouchmytoe.com/ - India ’s second most humorous blog.

Celebrating my birthday in style

Jamshed V Rajan — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 02:41:08 +0000

The blog post is being written after attaining permission from Priyanka Khattri, a 22 year girl from Pune (now working in Delhi), whom I met up on my birthday. After I had initiated a search for ‘the birthday partner,’ Priyanka had responded via mail. Don’t go googling for Priyanka Khattri because, the first name has been changed on request.

She being the only person who was in Delhi and was also willing to meet up, we agreed to meet at DT Mall in Gurgaon. The meet up time was to be 12.30 p.m. and we were to go for lunch.

I gave my car cleaner Rs 50 and told him that I had an important meeting and wanted the car shining from both inside and outside. While my car was being washed, I also took bath (I generally do), put on my costliest T-shirt & got into my only blue jeans.

“I am about to leave my house. Where in DT Mall will I find you?”

“You will find me waiting in my Honda City, just outside DT Mall. If you are fine, I would rather have my lunch outside somewhere.” She sure sounded like a woman that knows what she wanted. As it always happens with me, when a woman is involved, I agree.

I called her again after five minutes. “A grey colored Honda city, you said?” I asked.

“Yes. Why?” She responded.

“Cool. Will keep an eye for your car. Meanwhile, you look out for a white colored Honda CRV. My driver will drop me and take it for servicing.” How could I tell her that I would be coming in a battered Suzuki Swift. She didn’t catch the bit about servicing…I might as well have told her that the driver would take my stud car for his breeding sessions.

I reached the DT Mall, parked my car in the basement, ran outside…gathered my breath and started walking towards her car. I noticed her checking herself out in the vanity mirror.

“So, I have a reputation”, I told myself even as I opened the front-passenger seat’s door.

“Hey, Jammy here!”

“I know. I am Priyanka Khattri. I am a major fan of yours and thought what better opportunity than this to meet you.”

“Cool. Lunch then?”

I suggested F Bar. She was adamant on authentic Indian food…and decided that we should be going to Punjabi By Nature. You don’t need to be married for one person to take decisions for the two of you. She definitely looked (and sounded) like someone who knew what she wanted. This would make my job easier…I just had to do what she wanted me to do.

As she started her car, I started studying her. She was stunningly pretty – more than what I had bargained for. She was wearing a black & white printed top and a sort-of blackish skirt that ended just above her knees. She had a black & white leather bag with her.

Her legs from the knees down were exposed, but the shadows inside the car (of the steering wheel, dashboard etc…do we really need them in the car?) stopped my eyes, which were hell bent on proving that Ferdinand Magellan wasn’t the biggest wanderer in history.

We reached “Panjabi By Nature” in ten minutes flat. She definitely was a fast girl.

The “A quite corner for two, please” she said to the usher is still ringing in my ears. The words came out so sweetly that had I been the usher, I would have emptied the whole restaurant….just for her.

As all men, I slouched on the chair the moment the waiter lead us to one.

“Do you mind, if I freshen-up?”

While I wanted to say, “Sure darling. Anything that will make my day,” I ended up saying, “Why do you need to freshen up? Did you just harvest some maize?”

Being a city bred girl, she didn’t get the joke about hard labour. I had to cover it up by saying: “I was just joking…go ahead. I will wait.”

——————–X—————-X———————–

She came back after ten minutes. There definitely was a difference. Ohh…I got it…she has worked on her lips…she now had lipstick. For a while my mind raced ahead of time…it raced into the future where LK Advani finally does become the Prime Minister of India, where Salman Khan finally looks old and Shilpa Shetty finally announces that she has a boy friend. Just that in the future that I saw, Priyanka and were I sitting next to each other and I was trying to help her clean up the small lip stick smudge she had on her lower lip. Thankfully, with my fingers. Gosh!

“So what do you want to eat?” Her question brought me back to Punjabi By Nature.

“Anything except Noodles.” Read here why I hate noodles

Anyway, after one hour we were done with our lunch. As luck would have it…it was my birthday…and I had to foot the bill.

As we were walking out, I asked: “So, what is your plan? When do you have to be back?”

She laughed and said, “Don’t worry even if I don’t return for the day…it is fine.”

That did scare me a bit. There were so many questions…What will the maid think when she comes home early in morning next day? What will the neighbours think when she insists on some fresh air in the balcony? Does she snore? If yes…will the neighbours think Rekha was back?

“Priyanka, how about a movie?”

“Nah…I hate movies.”

“Priyanka, how about a drive?”

“This is no Goa or Kerala…where a drive can be fun.”

“Hmm…how about a coffee shop?”

“I hate coffee shop!”

What was this girl hinting at? I just couldn’t fathom. After a bit of persuasion, it was decided that we will drive around the ‘beautifully’ city of Gurgaon till we agree on a course of action.

There was a long silence as she focused on the road (her car being better, she had decided that I park my car in the basement of DT Mall). Then she blurted out: “Hey! How about going to your house? We could watch IPL cricket highlights?”

I took my time to respond. “I know a mall which telecasts IPL highlights…would you want to try that?”

“Nahh…I hate crowds.”

“Ok…fine, lets go home. Take the next right.” I gave in. Being a man, it was difficult to resist.

“Great! I have a headache. Can I just stop at the next medical store and get a disprin?” OK…first she says she wants to come home…and now she is already preparing for the ‘headache trick’. As if…

She spent a lot of time in the medical store, while I waited in the car. She showed me the disprin once she was back. But I noticed a bulge in her skirt pocket, which wasn’t there when she left the car.

We reached my house in Sector 56, Gurgaon. As luck would have it, we only have AC & TV in the bedroom…so that was the room where we settled down.

One thing lead to another and pretty soon I got to unwrap my birthday present.

——————–X—————-X———————–

And then, she came back from the washroom.

“Jammy?”…………. “Jammy?”……….. “Jammy?”

“Yeah?”

“You fine, Jammy?”

“Yeah…yeah…”

“I will have to go soon…my boy friend will be at the DT mall by 3 p……can we quickly order.”

“Sure.”

For vanity sake, I told her that I myself had another date lined up for 3 p.m…..but she somehow didn’t think much of it.

Being a humor blogger isn’t funny.

I am looking for a ‘birthday’ partner

Jamshed V Rajan — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 19:08:52 +0000

Twenty sixth of April is my birthday and I will be alone in Gurgaon. My wife and daughter are in Kerala celebrating Vishu (the New Year in Kerala) and my only girl friend will be out of town. Since I didn’t want to spend my birthday alone & drinking, I asked my good friend Rahul Razdan: “Rahul, would it be a good idea to sell six hours of my time on my birth day on eBay?”

“What would you do and who would bid for your offer?” He was straight to the point.

“I am supposed to be a humor blogger. There has to be somebody who will be willing to pay at least 1 dollar to spend six hours with me,” I insisted.

“What if nobody wanted to spend time with you on your birthday? Wouldn’t you be depressed further?”

“I would create another eBay ID and bid for my own time. Then, me and my split-personality will dine together,” I said with a chuckle. But deep down, I was a little happy I didn’t post it on eBay.

Why leave familiar territory? So, here is an offer:

If you stay somewhere close by, and don’t mind spending time with a guy who can at least try to make you laugh…why don’t we meet up on 26th April, 2009? I promise to learn some new jokes & practice hard.

Since it is my birthday it is only natural that I bear all expenses as part of the treat. If you are interested, please mail me at jv.rajan@gmail.com with/without your contact number so that I can get in touch with you. You can also leave a comment with your email ID (and nobody besides me can see your mail ID). Alternatively, you can call me on 09971996581.

Disclaimer: If you aren’t in Gurgaon/Delhi and would like to fly in from some other city/country…let me tell you that that I can’t afford your air tickets. Would loveeeee the gesture, though.

Links to help you decide:

A funny take on myself | My Professional Profile | Googling my name gets you these results

Answering some doubts you might have…

**Obviously, gender is no bar
**I will let you know by Saturday morning (25th April) if we are going to have lunch together. The idea is to give you enough time.
**We will meet for lunch, perhaps. And extend it to dinner - you being the guest, you will get to decide if you want the dinner with me or not
**I stay in Gurgaon, so any place in Delhi, Gurgaon or Noida is fine with me (I am the typical male that doesn’t ask for directions!)
**We can also squeeze in a drive to some place or a movie together (up to you)
**I drink. But only if you decide to stay back for dinner. I never drink when there is light (what of somebody sees me?!)

How to have rice, curd and pickle for dinner

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 06:45:05 +0000

Before you even think of having a sumptuous dinner of rice, curd & pickle dinner…you have to make sure that your wife isn’t in town. If she is around, and you tell her that you want a rice, curd & pickle dinner…she is bound to scold you and say, “Don’t you want me to cook?” which in lady-term means “Don’t you like my cooking?”

Since there is no right answer to the above question, you are bound to get cornered.

I packed off my wife to Kerala for a month. Don’t ask me how I managed it…it involved months of scheming, & planning. During the one month I was scheming, I gained her confidence by ensuring none of the below mentioned happened:

• I didn’t come home smelling of a lady’s perfume
• I didn’t come home with long strands of hair on my white shirt (I avoided the same on my car seats as well)
• I didn’t take bath immediately after coming home
• I didn’t come back from office & say: “Gosh! It was tiring!”

With your wife out of the way, the coast is generally clear. If you bring in your girl friend after your wife leaves…the scene gets a bit murkier…because, being your girl friend, she won’t cook and you guys will end up ordering Pizzas (Trips to the restaurants are ruled out because in such circumstances you try and avoid the neighbors eyes!).

If like me, you also don’t have a girlfriend who lives in your city…the stage is pretty much set. Now, all you need is some rice, some curd and some pickle.

If you are a man, let me tell you that rice being a staple diet, it is available in most general stores. Perhaps, your wife has already left some rice at home…so you might want to ransack the kitchen before trying out the general store.

Once the rice has been bought (or found), start looking for a Rice Cooker. It is an interesting apparatus. In a way, it is like the road side Romeo that we men have been in some time of our lives – it is round, fat and has a long handle. Just that, it whistles at the ladies & gets away while we couldn’t. Get away, that is.

To cut the long story short, look inside your kitchen for a round, fat apparatus with a long handle. It also has a lid and a whistle.

Now, that the rice cooker has been found lets wash the rice. Remember seeing brown rice on your plate and puking on the hostel’s dining table? That’s because Sonu, the caterer, didn’t believe in washing the rice before cooking it. If you wash it properly, rice will be tasty to eat…and white in color (something most South Indians like me what to be!). While it seems like a great idea to wash rice with soap or detergent, it actually isn’t. Like most South Indians, don’t try the Fair & Lovely cream either.

Once, the rice is washed in plain water, place it inside the cooker and add three times the water. That’s if you have taken 1 cup of rice, add three cups of water. The measurement can be tricky…so use a charcoal to mark on the kitchen wall the number of cups of water you have already poured into the rice cooker.

With the rice & water inside the rice cooker, you can now close it and place it on the gas stove. Remember, to light the gas stove. Lighting of the gas stove works exactly the way we light light our cigarettes. Find a box of matches from the trouser you were wearing during the day, strike a match and place the lit match on the burner. Remember, to turn the stove’s knob.

After 2 minutes, the rice cooker will whistle. Remember, this cooker is used to ladies rushing towards it the moment it whistles…so you should do the same…else it will spoil your rice. Rush to it, and turn your gas stove’s knob to the left to let it simmer. After two more whistle, remove the rice cooker from the stove. Remember to switch off the gas stove (you can light a cigarette before you do so – in celebration of having successfully cooked rice).

Men Alert: When the rice cooker whistles take it easy… don’t stick your tongue out at it…I did…and my tongue stuck to the hot metal.

Now, you need to find curd. Technically, curd is milk that’s been intentionally spoilt. Just that we love the way it gets spoilt. It is great if you have a cow in your house…but if you don’t, any general store can help you with a pack of Nestle Curd or Amul curd. If you live in a small town, that doesn’t believe in branded curd…you will surely get curd packed by the shop keeper in 100 grams packs.

Some women apply curd on their face & hair…so don’t worry about the looks the shop keeper gives you.

Now, try and spot pickle in your house. Pickles are generally fruits or vegetables (sometimes even fish & meat!) that get fermented/marinated in water/oil/Vinegar with salt and thus end up with a very distinct taste – one reason why they goes well with the bland curd & rice. Pickles are generally bottled and you will find yours hidden behind other bottles which are used more often. Trust your wife to hide them from you.

Dear men, at this juncture it is important to tell you that a bottle with ‘Kissan’ written on it is a Jam or Marmalade. It is the sweet thing that your wife or mother spreads on your toast every day in the morning.

Now that you have all the three items for your one-course meal…put all your rice on a plate. Pour the whole pack of curd on the rice. Place a spoon full of pickle on one side of the plate.

The trickiest part last - how do you mix the curd & rice? Here is my advice: Wash your hands & roll up your sleeves…like a true South Indian. Pour half a cup of water and sprinkle a pinch of salt onto the rice & curd and start mixing with your fingers. It feels messy initially…but slowly you will start loving the texture, and believe me it acts like an appetizer. Once mixed into a paste…put up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ board on the door (if your girl friend is in the house, you probably already have this board outside), sit in front of your Television & start eating. Trust me, you will relish it.

Warning: If your house has Close Circuit TV and every action of yours is recorded, I suggest you switch them off till you finish your dinner. You don’t want somebody to blackmail you into sex & money because they laid their hands on a video of yours that shows you eating curd rice with your hands.

My trip to South Africa – Part 2

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 15:07:06 +0000

If you haven’t read My trip to South Africa – Part 1, I request you to read that first. This post is second in the series.

- - - Part Two Begins - - -

While unpacking, I switched on the TV and the first thing I noticed was four channels dedicated to adult movies. I was asked to enter my room number via my remote if I wanted to view the movies…and in return, they would add 140 Rands to my hotel bill for a 3 hour movie. Mental calculation & sheer logic told me that Rs 700 for a 3 hour adult movie wasn’t so great…especially if one had access to internet.

After putting on our best clothes (Thank God, I didn’t take my suit!), we went to the V&A WaterFront mall. Just in case you didn’t know…it has 80 places to eat (that’s the number of restaurants we have in the town I come from – Madurai!) and around 400 shops to spend your Rands.

You should plan a family trip to Cape Town, as long as the family doesn’t include your girlfriend or wife. I was happy my wife Rekha wasn’t beside me while I ogled at the gorgeous girls who came shopping. Every pretty girl in Cape Town had a boy friend, so it was easy to ogle at them. In India, every pretty girl has two boy friends, and two desperate wannabe boy friends trailing, which makes ogling difficult.

Robert Browning in his poem ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’ had described the rats that came out once the Pied Piper starting playing his pipe. (For full version of Robert Browning’s ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’ Click Here.

When I was at the WaterFront mall in Cape Town, I was reminded of this paragraph from the poem:

And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives —
Followed the Piper for their lives.

How much I wished, the gorgeous girls – of all types & kinds – followed me for their lives!

We had our dinner at WaterFront, overlooking many parking slots – just that in these parking slots, the rich people parked their Yachts. Trust me when I say liquor & food is cheap in Cape Town. In India, you pay Rs 200 for a beer, and Rs 3000 for the chairs & tables you destroy after you get drunk. In Cape Town, the meat-built bodies of others in the pub is so huge and well-toned, that you never get a high…leave alone destroying chairs & tables.

I came back to the hotel, a dejected lot. Dejection is a dangerous thing…sometimes, it can make you spend 140 Rands for nothing. Thankfully, I held back my horses & didn’t enter my room number via the remote.

The next day morning, we went to Camps Bay, a beach here in Cape Town. Pity, we went a little early. Since I have lived seven years in Chennai, which hosts Asia’s biggest beach (Not sure if L&T has constructed a bigger one in some other Asian city), I thought I will be disappointed. But I was wrong. When thirsty, I walked into a departmental store…I think called ‘Pick Up’ (to a casual Indian, this would have sounded like a Night Club) and realized that they have two kinds of water – Still Water & Sparkling Water.

“Shucks, back in India we only have one type….plain water.” I told the lady at the counter..

“Ohh you Indian? We have lots of them in Durban.”

My grandma, who is my travel guru for she traveled in bullock carts from village to village when she was young (mostly chasing handsome young men!), had advised me to learn as much as possible when in a foreign land. So, I insisted.

I repeated my question:
“Coming back to my watery question. What is Still Water, and what is Sparkling Water?”

After a lot of discussion, I came to know that Still Water was plain water and Sparkling Water is what we Indians call carbonated water (or soda).

We were back in our rooms by noon, for at 3 p.m. we were to assemble in the lobby for an introductory party at Oudekraal, Cape Town. The place was breathtaking - 99% for the ambience and 1% because of all the smoking all of us indulged in.

After getting to know each other (which was easy after a few drinks) I was literally put in the bus back to the hotel. The next day I was told that I created quite a commotion, NOT wanting to go back to the hotel…and when I couldn’t achieve that….I insisted on sitting next a particular ‘firang’ girl, who had no idea about me.

I tried to get familiar. “Have you read ouchmytoe.com?”

“Nopes!”

“Have you heard of it, at least?”

“Nopes!”

“Are you saying that I am not popular in South Africa?”

“Who are you anyway?”

Suddenly, I felt giddy & wanted to puke. Before I could find out if it was the alcohol or the girl’s replies, we reached the hotel.

Note: Professors Bharat Anand and Felix Oberholzer-Gee kept me busy on the other 4 days, and like all good things in life…the trip came to an end pretty soon.

My trip to South Africa – Part 1

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 06:49:20 +0000

As always, everything written below this line is exaggerated to make you laugh. If you aren’t able to laugh after reading this…try a smile instead. If you find smiling difficult, try out Invisalign Orthodontics.

If you haven’t yet read my post about me making a trip to South Africa, I suggest you read it here, before proceeding any further.

On March 23, at 9.30 p.m. (IST) I was to take an Emirates flight to Dubai. The well heeled and well traveled advised me to reach the airport by 6.30 p.m.. I checked in to my cab at 4 p.m. and reached the airport at 5 p.m. itself.

The guard at the airport refused to allow me in.

“Sir, you are way too early. I presume it is your first international travel.”

“Well, in a way yes. The last time I traveled was in 1997. But why wouldn’t you allow me inside?” I accepted & inquired.

“Sir, many like you enter the airport early and leer at the airhostess. Standing outside the airport I don’t get to leer at them…if I don’t get to…why should I allow you?”

The guard had a point. I didn’t pursue and instead stood outside the airport with my laptop and baggage. I did cheat though – I stole at least three glances at the thin-legged air hostesses while they were entering the airport.

My colleagues, Gagan Bhatia, Vikas Sobti, Vijay Aggarwal and Surendra Sahu landed at 8 p.m. – a full three hours after I had reached. We then proceeded to the check in.

Being non-professional flirts, my colleagues asked for adjacent seats but I advised them to go for a seating arrangement like this:

Thankfully, my colleagues agreed to take the risk considering the huge benefits. The lady at the check in counter did give us a sheepish look while handing over our boarding passes, but we didn’t mind as long as we got to sit with pretty girls during the four hour long journey to Dubai.

While we were getting thro’ the security, we spent time listing out the questions one shouldn’t ask the pretty girls who might end up sitting next to us. Here is list of questions:

• Do they serve liquor as often as you ask?
• Do you think two people can fit into this airplane’s washroom?
• Can I remove the arm rest between our two seats?
• Would you want to get under a single seat belt?
• What trade are you planning to get into once in Dubai?

Pretty soon, we were in our seats waiting for the pretty girls to come and sit next to us…basically, occupy the ‘girl traps’ we had set for them.

As luck would have it, here is who came and sat next to us:

Me: A 60 year old grand mom, who was visiting Dubai to see her fourth grandson
Vikas Sobti: A 40 year old Army Officer
Surendra Sahu: A 35 year old lady who had applied to be a housemaid with a family in Dubai and had got selected
Gagan Bhatia: A 50 year old Iraqi businessman who bathed the person conversing with him with his spit
Vijay Aggarwal: Empty Seat

If we were to find solace in beautiful air hostesses serving us liquor & food, we were hugely disappointed.

Around 12 midnight on 23rd March, 2009 we landed in Dubai. Beautiful airport. If only it started looking more like an airport and less like a shopping mall, it would be even better.

Our flight to Cape Town was scheduled eight hours later. After spending time in the shopping area where for every ~~Riyal~~ Dirham spent on things for my wife, I ended up spending two ~~Riyals~~ Dirhams for my girlfriends…we retired to the one of the 25 restaurants & bars that one would find at Dubai International. Yes! There are 25 of them.

In just one hour, we moved from ‘we will remain awake & take in every inch of the Dubai airport’ to ‘give me a place on the wooden bench so I can sleep’.

Thankfully, we didn’t lay ‘Girl Traps’ for our nine hour journey from Dubai to Cape Town and enjoyed each other’s company (that’s when we weren’t glued to the in-flight entertainment system or flirting with the air hostesses with statements like: “Can I have one more beer pls?,” “I will need one more pillow pls.”).

We reached Cape Town in one piece and considering the amount of free liquor we had consumed…I was glad we didn’t have a hangover. A pretty Indian-like girl welcomed us at the airport and we were driven to Le Vendome, a five star hotel at Sea Point, Cape Town. Trust me, when it comes to five star hotels…India is the best.

My room number was 508. Don’t believe me? Just remove the mattress from the bed in Room number 508 of Le Vendome, and you will notice a huge ‘Jammy was here’ carved out from a knife. If they have changed the bed since I left, you can always try spotting ‘Jammy was here’ behind all the doors, on the window sills, and inside the bath tub.

Part Two of this series will be up by 8th or 9th of April

Meet you in Cape Town, South Africa

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 17:27:41 +0000

Those that were impacted by my last trip to a phoren country will now be shuddering. That’s, if I told them about my forthcoming trip to Cape Town in South Africa for a week.

Last time I was in Canada (and also managed to stay in London for a few days thanks to a technical snag in the Air India flight!)…I had returned with what is known as reverse cultural shock.

This was way back in 1997, and Dr Manmohan Singh’s liberalization policies hadn’t affected my family yet. After I was back from the all-expenses-paid-by-the-Government trip, when still in college, I was a changed man. For starters, I hated my parents. My mother didn’t wear trousers, and didn’t visit the pub on weekends…my father didn’t have a pick up truck to take us on weekend outings. Gosh! What losers for parents, I had got.

It had started the day I was back. “Mom, aren’t you bored with this dosa and sambar? Have you heard of Bacon & eggs?” I remember asking.

The innocent mother that she was, she replied: “Son, I know eggs…but what is bacon?”

“Mom, bacon is strips of a pig’s thigh…and it makes for sophisticated breakfast - unlike this messy dosa & sambar.”

“But meat early in the morning? And since when did you start eating pork?” she sounded concerned.

I didn’t bother to respond.

It took me close to a fortnight to realize that that I was back in India, and I was in a state of denial. Thereafter, it took me another fortnight to apologize and return home a prodigal son.

Here is the twist in the tale – I will be off to Cape Town in South Africa for a week long crash course. Guess what…the keyword for the course is ‘innovation’ and is being conducted by Harvard University. More details on that later.

Since, I had shared the story of my last trip with her…my wife is really scared. As a matter of fact, she went to Food Spencers in Mega Mall, Gurgaon yesterday and bought three packs of Bacon and put them in the freezer. Today evening, she is buying eggs.

As with most women, my wife also wants me to plan my activities. After being reprimanded by her couple of times, I took the effort and came up with a list of things I need to take on my trip to South Africa. Here goes:

Rekha has been helping me pack. If you make a trip like this and if your wife insists on packing your suitcase/bag…keep a close watch on her. And the moment she finishes packing, re-check if your return ticket is still there.

Since we Rajans are selfless sacrificers, let me give you another tip: Always, take a bigger bag during your phoren trips… what if you find out that the hotel staff doesn’t scrutinize the bags during check out?

In a recent survey in the United States of America, it has been found out that 90% of the men want to wear pink, silk boxer shorts…but are scared of being found out (accidental discovery!). Extrapolating the same logic, I had decided to take my newest, brightest & best-est Jockeys (the yellow one, which says ‘Champ’ on the back, the red one that says ‘Play Boy’ on the back, and the Black one that says ‘Great Stuff’ on the back).

I had even reasoned out with my colleagues that it was always better to be prepared. What if I was JUST strolling near a night club and the night club’s bouncer pointed a gun at my head and asked me to walk in? Wouldn’t I just walk into the Night Club to save my life? After all, South Africa is the country where they can kill their own National animal – Springboks - for delicacy. Why would they think twice about a 165 cms tall, dark skinned (that’s another negative!) young man? Now, don’t you think, me packing my brightest, newest & best-est of jockeys made sense?

Since I am leaving on Monday night, I thought I should give my wife sometime to decide on what she wants from South Africa…so asked her today morning. “So, what do you want from me, from South Africa?”

“Unconditional love.” She didn’t have to think to give the answer.

Note:
*I made a small change in my checklist…have removed the line “The newest, Brightest, & Best-est.”
**In my absence, please take good care of my country. It is a blink & miss role…I will be back soon.

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