Ouchmytoe.com - The Funny Blog

One job done, Rekha is looking for another

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 05:06:03 +0000

Download Rekha’s Resume (60 Kb, Doc File)
>> Downloaded 17 times <<

After studying for six years – from 1994 to 2000, my wife Rekha joined Sify as the Product Manager for their Entertainment Channel.

Back then, I used to work for Sify as Product Manager for their Sports Channel. That’s when she met me and fell head over heels for me. Despite my continuous refusals she continued to chase me and finally managed to wear me down. I agreed to marry her, disappointing many other girls who were in the queue.

The day we got married, we decided that only one of us will work for Sify. For obvious reasons, of course. How was I supposed to oogle at girls, if my wife was around to watch me?

Being the braver of the two, she decided to quit the job she loved and join Sify’s E-Learning team (which sat in a different building/office). While at Sify’s E-Learning team, she worked on projects for GE, Hyperion, Caterpillar, Northrop Grumman Defence Systems etc.

Within a year, her fame spread amongst the Instructional Designers of Chennai (at least that’s what she made me believe!) and got a call from Congnizant Technologies…which she readily accepted.

After spending two years with Cognizant Technologies and working with clients such as Pfizer and PeopleSoft….something nice happened….Rhea, our daughter was born.

If Rekha had continued to work, she would have had a glittering career now. Maybe, better than mine….but she didn’t. She gave up all that without even an iota of second thoughts because she wanted to be around for Rhea & her learnings.

It has been two and a half years since…and Rhea has turned out to be a smart girl. She joined Play School two months back and got promoted to nursery a week back. Even though she is just two and a half years old…Rhea is a almost a complete woman…she covers her mouth when she coughs, and says ‘Sorry’ afterwards, she reads books, knows all the rhymes, dances to music, can play a drum, doesn’t watch TV, says ‘namaste’ to elders…the list can go on. All thanks to Rekha. All that I ever did was buy Rhea a chocolate on an odd weekend.

Having done her bit for her daughter, Rekha now wants to get back to work. She wants that adrenalin rush that she used to experience when a call was due with an angry client, in the next five minutes. In short, she is looking for a job.

At this stage, she wants something that she can do from home. After a year or so, she will start exploring opportunities that require her to be in office.

If you think you have something she can work on, you can download her resume here (60 Kb, Doc File) >> Downloaded 17 times <<

Email exchanges between five consenting, cheating adults

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 04:55:09 +0000

This blog post has been inspired by a book called ‘E’ written by Matt Beaumont, a talented writer. The book is set in an Ad Agency called Miller Shanks in London and is written as a series of mails. Just mails exchanged between the colleagues and nothing else. So, here is my attempt in copying that style. Buy the Book Here

The five characters in this story are:

JV Rajan: A 34 year old male internet addict working with ibibo.com

Rekha TP: Rajan’s wife, who has mothered a two and a half year old baby called Rhea with Rajan and has just now entered the 6th year of marriage.

Priyanka Chopra: Rajan’s love interest. A 29 year old Delhi girl who also loves Rajan

Biju Anand: Rekha’s love interest. He first proposed to Rekha when they were in standard 10 together. Is still unmarried and hopes for the thunder to wipe out Rajan.

Rakesh Jha: Priyanka’s full time boyfriend. An engineering student who has been looking for a job for the last two years

This set of emails begin on October 20, when Rajan comes to know that he has to go to Cape Town, South Africa for a few days.

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 4.00 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Traveling

Hey Love, I will have to catch a flight for Cape Town on 25th Oct. And am back only on 30th. Can’t make it this weekend. Save yourself for me (also save the pink one for the weekend after). So what do you want from Cape Town?

Love,
R

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 4.03 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Official Travel

I will be off for a few days to South Africa. Pack my green trolley. Dress code: Casual.

Cheers

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 7.13 p.m.
From: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Traveling

That’s so sweet love. I will so …so…so…miss you. I will save the pink for you. Did I tell you about the new black one? Promise me we will meet the next weekend…can’t wait to pounce on you. By the way, I have also bought tiger & rabbit paint. Now decide soon what you want to become when we meet – tiger or rabbit?

What will you bring me? Something real small, and needless to say expensive.

Your dearie,
PC

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 8.53 p.m.
From: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Official Travel

I have packed your stuff. Though, you could have also done it at leisure – it is five more days to your travel. Rhea will miss you.

And are you traveling alone or with colleagues? Are the travel dates fixed? Or are you expecting a change?

When are you reaching home? Food is ready….should I heat it now?

Your wifey,
Rekha

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 9.13 p.m.
From: Rekha.tp@gmail.com To:
CC: biju-anand@live.com
BCC:
Subject: We can meet again!

Sweetheart, I have some good news and bad news. My husband is traveling again. The bad news is, he is out of the country only for five days– from 26th to 30th of this month. You think you can make it to Gurgaon?

I know…all the cocaine has left your wallet empty. But I can buy you tickets, if you promise to wake up when Gurgaon arrives? With so much security, can’t risk air travel with you can we?

Can’t use my credit card…so will have to go to the railway booking center…so you need to tell me in advance.

Your true love,
Rekha

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 9.10 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Official Travel

I am leaving in another five minutes. Keep food warm. Am tired, so will hit the bed right after dinner.

The start date of the travel is fixed. But might get extended to the weekend…and we might be forced to see the South African Safari. Apparently, there is a Tiger-Rabbit chase that is nice to watch.

Cheers

- – - X – - –

20 October, 2009 | 7.13 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com

CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Traveling

My apple pie…I am trying to tell my wife that my stay in South Africa might get extended. We can then spend the whole weekend together. Will your neighbors turn suspicious? Though, I wonder how they can get suspicious if we spend all the time inside your bedroom.

Between the Tiger and the Rabbit…eat me! You know how much I love it when you hunt me down, pin me to the wall and eat me. Let’s not change the roles please.

Black then, if I manage to extend SA trip unofficially and spend the weekend with you.

My boring house wife is waiting for me to reach home early and have our dinner while watching Big Boss Season 3. Pity Me.

Love,
R

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 3.13 a.m.
From: biju-anand@live.com
To: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: We can meet again!

I would so love to visit Gurgaon when your husband is away. When you courier me the tickets also send in at least Rs 5000 in cash. I need money to spend on my way – it is at least 2 days by train.

What do you want from here in Kerala?

Your true love,
Biju Baby

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 10.45 a.m.
From: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Meeting a Girl Friend

I won’t be home from 12 noon to 4 p.m.. I am meeting an ex-colleague of mine. Don’t surprise yourself by coming home for lunch…I won’t be there.

How is work? I hope all preparations are on for your SA trip. I know how much you want to go to South Africa – I hope the trip is on and there are no last minute cancellations.

Wifey,
Rekha

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 11.05 a.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Meeting a Girl Friend

No sweat. I will be busy at work as well. Carry on. Pass on my love to this girl friend of yours. Have I seen her?

Yours sincerely,
Rajan

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 7.13 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com

CC:
BCC:
Subject: Excitement

I am so thrilled thinking of spending the whole weekend together. Why didn’t you respond to my question on neighbours?

Love,
R

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 7.23 p.m.
From: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Excitement

Was held up with work sweetheart. I am also really thrilled…been a long while since we did some role playing. Spending the weekend is fine.

Have told my neighbours already that my brother will be visiting me next weekend.

You haven’t responded to my question on the gift. I heard South Africa is good with diamonds? Apparently, they have lots of diamond mines. Check this Wikipedia link if you don’t believe me – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mining_industry_of_South_Africa

Your apple pie in black,
P

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 7.25 p.m.
From: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
To: rakesh.jha@hotmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: My apologies

Dear Rakesh,

Looks like we have to change our plans for the next weekend. I might have to go to Chandigargh for a research. My boss will be traveling with me so will be inaccessible by phone as well.

Will buzz you the moment I am back in Gurgaon. Most likely Sunday evening.

Don’t worry, will save both the pink and black for you. I have bought Tiger paint and rabbit paint….waiting to see you wear the tiger paint and pounce on me.

Your lovey-dovey,
Priyanka

- – - X – - –

21 October, 2009 | 8.26 p.m.
From: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
To: biju-anand@live.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Re: We can meet again!

Just couriered you your railway tickets. Had Rs 4000 in hand…have couriered that too.

Don’t carry too much cocaine…sometimes there are police in the trains as well. And don’t snort before you hit the bed in the train…Gurgaon station isn’t the last station and don’t want to waste time driving to Jaipur to pick you up.

Remember, you did this when Rajan last went to South Africa?

Travel light…you can use Rajan’s clothes.

All I want from Kerala, is the true love that I saw in your eyes when I was in class ten.

Your true love,
Rekha

- – - X – - –

22 October, 2009 | 4.41 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Re: Excitement

I get the hint lady. To get a diamond, I might have to use the credit card which could mean trouble (the statement comes home, you see).

Will try and get something real nice for you – something that’s small but not necessarily as costly as a diamond.

Wish we could go together…would have been awesome. The weather is also cold and windy…we could have stayed indoors the whole trip. But unfortunately, this is an official trip.

Your brown bunny,
Rajan

- – - X – - –

22 October, 2009 | 4.51 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: rekha.tp@gmail.com

CC:
BCC:
Subject: Gift

So, what do you want from Cape Town? Ask for something that a young girl like you would want…something that’s small and yet not as costly as a diamond. You know that with the EMIs we have to pay, I won’t be able to afford a diamond for you.

Your hubby,
Rajan

- – - X – - –

22 October, 2009 | 7.53 p.m.
From: rekha.tp@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com

CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Gift

I will tell you what I want from Cape Town, after we finish watching Big Boss Season 3. Hope that’s fine.

But why the sudden affection?

Your wifey,
Rekha

- – - X – - –

22 October, 2009 | 8.15 p.m.
From: rakesh.jha@hotmail.com
To: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: My apologies

Priyanka,

Hope your boss and you are booked in different rooms. Remember, I have friends in Chandigarh who can come and check on you if I suspect anything.

What are you getting for me from Chandigarh?

Your dude,
Rakesh

- – - X – - –

23 October, 2009 | 4.15 p.m.
From: biju-anand@live.com
To: Rekha.tp@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Re: Re: We can meet again!

Got the tickets and the money. You are a sweetheart.

I have already started practicing kissing in front of the mirror, so that I don’t disappoint when we meet.

I promise not to fill the slot I have created on my shoe’s sole for cocaine. I will only fill it half….because I love you and respect your concerns.

Do Gurgaon police accept bribe? I have lost weight since we last met, so Rajan’s clothes won’t fit me…and it won’t look nice if we go out. But then, do we have plans to go outdoors? I would rather we stayed at home. What say?

Your true Malayali love,
Biju Baby

- – - X – - –

23 October, 2009 | 6.44 p.m.
From: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Excitement

OK fine I forgive you. Don’t get me something that’s small and costly. If it isn’t a diamond, I want something that’s big and also costly.

You can take cash from India, you know…if you want to avoid the credit card.

By what time do you think we will wind up on Sunday evening? I wanted to know because I have to make a couple of office related calls on Sunday evening.

Your apple pie (now in sky blue),
P

- – - X – - –

23 October, 2009 | 6.48 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: rekha.tp@gmail.com

CC:
BCC:
Subject: Gift – Change of mind

I have changed my mind on what to get you from Cape Town. Now, I want it to be something that’s big and also costly. What would it be? Anything in particular that comes to your mind? Give me couple of options.

And don’t mail back saying you will tell me after watching Big Boss Season 3….you always sleep off by the time it ends.

Your hubby,
Rajan

- – - X – - –

23 October, 2009 | 7.28 p.m.
From: rekha.tp@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Gift – Change of mind

Frankly, I only want you to come back safely. Always keep me informed on what you are doing and where you are….that is all I ask. Nothing else.

Your hubby,
Rajan

October 24 & 25 were Saturday and Sunday….and nobody checked or responded to mails. And Rajan, left for Cape Town on Sunday evening.

26 October, 2009 | 4.22 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: rekha.tp@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Reached

Reached Cape Town. Good room with a good view. Busy now…have to rush for conference. Will call you later.

I am coming back only by Sunday late night. That’s confirmed.

Your hubby,
Rajan

- – - X – - –

26 October, 2009 | 4.22 p.m.
From: jv.rajan@gmail.com
To: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Reached

Hey my crispy finger chips,
Have reached Cape Town. The flight took off on time and had good company during the flight. The air hostess were nothing when compared against you….where do these airlines recruit from anyway? Jharkhand Hinterland?

My room has excellent view and wish you were here. We could have just wrapped the soft, white blankets and stood next to the huge windows and watched the yatchs though out the day.

There is a huge bath tub as well, where we could have played a Pomfret and a Piranha game as well. I miss you.

The conference begins only tomorrow…and nothing to do now besides staring at the sea from my room. Catch you when you come online.

Your fruit cake walking naked,
Rajan

- – - X – - –

26 October, 2009 | 8.20 p.m.
From: rekha.tp@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Reached

Both Rhea and I miss you. Got late in replying because had gone to pick up a girl friend of mine from the railway station. Her first time in Gurgaon…no actually second time….and she needed a place to stay. I have asked her to stay with us.

Focus on the conference. Don’t need to call…I can understand. Just drop in a mail whenever you have time and I will respond

Waiting for it to be Sunday. 

Your wifey,
Rekha

- – - X – - –

26 October, 2009 | 9.22 p.m.
From: priyanka-chopra@gmail.com
To: jv.rajan@gmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Re: Reached

My dear, Hyderabadi Chicken Briyani,

Wish I was there too. You are making me yearn for you….now I have that tingling sensation that I have whenever I think of you.

I will try and see if there is a Pomfret and a Piranha paint that’s available in the market. Maybe not in a bath tub…but we could at least play that game under the shower. Should I ask for water proof colors?

I will always be in your thoughts. And listen…you don’t need to waste your money on international calls…just drop in mails whenever possible and I will respond. OK?

Nothing here too,
Priyanka

- – - X – - –

26 October, 2009 | 9.28 p.m.
From: prinyanka-chopra@gmail.com
To: rakesh.jha@hotmail.com
CC:
BCC:
Subject: Can you come?

Hey Rakesh,

Tried your mobile couple of times…it is switched off. Can you come now? I have that tingling sensation that comes up whenever I feel like meeting you?

Thought, if we can’t meet the coming weekend why not meet now itself?

Your spice girl,
P

The mails & the relationships continued well into the future…

Fame, Faith and failure

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 16:14:11 +0000

[Reader Alert! This post, isn’t going to be as funny as one would expect posts on Ouchmytoe to be]

This post isn’t funny because I have been spending all of my time between ibibo.com and my daughter Rhea. Without that creative time slot to think and plan a blog post…coming up with a funny piece is difficult. So here goes an autobiographical piece.

This article is about Fame, Faith & Failure…the three things that keeps any man going.

Two years back, when I went to Madurai, the city where I grew up, I bumped into a friend whom I used to play cricket with when I was in school & college.

Mani, the all-rounder I was scared to ball to…and frightened to face is today a bus conductor and works for Rs 6300. Here is what happened.

“Aren’t you Rajan?”

That’s how he knew me…Rajan. Jammy, the fancier name caught on later. There was no way, I was going to recognize him…he had become a man. A man hardened by fate, deeds & hard luck. A face, I wouldn’t recognize.

“Heyyyy…..hmmm….hmmm…how are you?” I just couldn’t place him. But being the good guy out of the two, he was more forthright.

“Looks like you didn’t recognize me. Remember me? Mani? The fast bowler?”

“Ohh shucks! Mani…it is you?”

“How have you been, Rajan. You are working with Indian Express aren’t you?” I could see that Mani wanted to hug me….but I didn’t. He was oily and smelled of bidis. I could see his khaki shirt was wet with sweat and salt formation where the sweat had dried, stood out like Google Maps. Though, I did think that his eyes were moist.

I didn’t tell Mani that I was with Indian Express ten years back, and had changed seven jobs since then. He kept on asking questions.

“Are you married?”
“Where is the girl from?”
“Is she pretty? Huh? Huh?
“Love marriage or arranged marriage?”
“Have any kids?”
“Boy or a girl?”
“Started going to school?”

He was genuine. I was the faker of the two. I answered in mono syllables. I didn’t ask him about his family, friends, job…nothing.

After getting bored of my mono syllables, he started looking at me up and down.

“You must be a rich man now. Aren’t you?”

“Well, not really. I don’t run my own business…I still wait for my monthly salary on the first of every month.”

Back in my town, asking somebody for their salary is an accepted norm. There is nothing to hide, especially if you are friends. And what I was dreading happened.

“That’s ok. I recently got a hike after completing two years and my salary now is Rs 6300. How much is yours?”

I could have been honest with him. But something inside didn’t allow me. I didn’t tell him that I was with Yahoo – one of the top Internet companies – and to make it worse, I cut down my package and said: “Well, my salary is double that.”

“I told you, didn’t I? You are rich. For me to get Rs 15,000 every month, I will have to work for another ten years.”

Mani was immediately on another subject. He told me that he met most of our cricketing friends at least once a week – they all boarded his bus and bought tickets from him. He also told me that some of our cricketing friends were richer now and HAD their own bikes.

“So, what do you do when you meet our cricket friends?” I asked Mani.

“Well, remember Rajesh…that sloppy fielder? He called me home last weekend…and introduced me to his parents as the best fast bowler he has ever faced.”

“Wow…thats nice.”

“Yeah. And remember, Suresh…that left hand bastman? He met me one day in the bus and we got talking. Now, I teach his young cousin brother the fine art of bowling….and Suresh pays me Rs 200 every month. I didn’t accept it at first….but you know Suresh…he always has it his way.”

“Wow…thats nice too.”

The people Mani was referring to had been an integral part of my life twelve years back and now I didn’t even know them…leave alone caring. Some shop keepers, some LIC agents, some sales executives….Mani, sure was famous among them.

“We talk about you…you know. I keep telling my wife that you are with a newspaper and we won’t have any trouble in finding a good school for our children, when we can afford to take them out of the Government School.”

“Hmm….” I didn’t commit anything to him and changed the subject. “So, how long will you be working as a conductor?”

“I have it clearly charted out. Two more years as a conductor. By then the small property that I have will be worth at least 2 lakhs…I will buy a second hand, white Ambassador car and become a Tourist Taxi driver.”

“Good money there?”

“Yeah. And once I understand the Taxi business, I will appoint a driver to drive my Ambassador as a Tourist Taxi…and I will get a good Gujarati family and drive their family car.”

At this point, he smiled…and added: “Double income, you see.”

Mani threw his beedi down on the ground and ordered the shop keeper for a Halls candy. Then he turned towards me and asked: “One for you?”

He wouldn’t let me pay for my cigarette too. After finishing with the shop keeper, he said he wanted to visit my home and see Rekha and Rhea and have a word with them.

I don’t know why…I lied to him that they weren’t home. He was very disappointed. I had just turned down the guy, I once wanted to impress. Back then, he was my hero…and I wanted him to be my best friend….so that he would take me in his team when the cricket teams were divided every day at 4.30 p.m., so that he would ask me to open the innings if I were in his team. How time changes.

I saw him returning the Halls candy and getting his fifty paisa back.

“Why what happened?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to be smelling of beedi, while meeting my sister-in-law…that’s your wife. Now, I don’t need it.”

Not for a moment did Mani suspect that I could be lying.

“So, what is your mobile number. I will give you missed calls…I can’t spend money in calling STD….you understand that….don’t you? You will have to call me back.”

After taking down my number, he gave me a missed call and asked me to save his number. I didn’t.

After parting ways and promising to be in touch in future, I started walking back home.

For Mani it was a monumental meeting with a friend from the happiest times of his life, and for me it was another update on Twitter, Orkut & Facebook: “Just met an old friend…”

Funny, meeting Mani didn’t even give me the excitement that I get when I see ‘1 Friend Request’ message on Facebook or ibibo. Requests from people, I don’t know. From people I don’t share any memory with.

Two days later, when I was back in Gurgaon I realized….Mani had all going for him. He might only be drawing Rs 7300 but he definitely has been a more successful person than I have been.

Class stays, they say…once an all rounder, always an all rounder. Maybe, that’s why when we had met….I was scared to face him.

Since this incident two years back, I have made seven trips to Madurai and during my stay there…. every day at the same time I go to that shop for a smoke. I always hope to see Mani, so that I invite him home and introduce to Rekha & Rhea as the best bowler I have faced and the best batsman I have bowled to. But, I haven’t yet been given a second chance.

Maybe, the second hand, white Ambassador is keeping him busy.

Golden rule of marriage remains unbroken

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 14:11:01 +0000

This Friday Rekha read my blog after a long time and as expected wasn’t impressed with the way I had been projecting her to the World. After leaving damaging comments (which I have deleted now) she decided to call me at office.

“I would like to discuss our marriage with you,” Rekha roared into the mouth piece.

“Discuss our marriage? Why? Are you going to divorce me?” I tried to hide my excitement.

“Divorce?” Rekha was surprised by my question. This is the problem with the typical Indian middle class woman…divorce isn’t an option.

“You are just trying to make me happy…right? You don’t really mean divorce?” I was finding it difficult to hide my excitement. In my mind, I had already proposed to one of the pretty interns working in my office….she had accepted….and we had started staying together.

“Rajan, listen…I have realized that our marriage isn’t going anywhere…what time will you be coming home today?”

In our house the rules are simple…when Rekha wants something she gets it – starting from A for Apple to Z for Zits (also known as pimples). So, there I was…at 8 p.m., sitting in front of her.

“Rajan, I don’t like how our married life has been moving forward,” Rekha broke the silence.

“I don’t understand. I have given you a pretty daughter who goes to a good school, you have a credit card whose bill gets paid from my salary at the end of the month, you make three trips a year to visit your parents…what is NOT right?”

“I donno…remember you used to say that our Suzuki Swift was great only in the first year. I get the same feeling about you,” Rekha was looking away…at the ceiling. Perhaps, because it hurt her that she was hurting me. Or perhaps because, she remembered I hadn’t cleaned the ceiling fan in a long time.

“Rekha…we spent 4-5 years together before marriage. So the accusation that I have changed after the first year is wrong. Besides, you have changed me so much after marriage that I am no longer the guy you had fallen in love with.”

I remembered a recent quote I had read, and almost let out a smile. Thank God Rekha was still looking at the shoe rack. The quote was: When a man and a woman marry, they become one. The trouble begins when they decide which one.

Rekha was still looking at the shoe rack. Now I was sure that she was going to bring up my irregular cleaning schedule next.

“Rajan, just because you bring in all the money doesn’t mean you are the boss of the house. I do so much of house work….if only it could be translated into money.”

Now Rekha was looking at the center table. She ran the tip of her index finger across the length of the table and picked up a layer of dust.

I could have right then told her that her best effort at house work wasn’t enough…and pointed to the layer of dust on the center table. But having the Rajans blood in the veins is a big disadvantage…you can’t BUT be a gentleman with a lady.

“Rekha, for starters you don’t let me be the boss. You act like a worker’s union and drown all my suggestions with the threat of a union strike.”

“Why do you consider me an outsider? Talking of drowning, I wish I could drown all my sorrows…but you never go for swimming.” There was a tinge of regret in Rekha’s voice which meant she wasn’t joking.

“Rekha, I joke on my blog and NOT when my married life is at stake,” I said. Long back I had learnt that girls (my wife included) liked it when you were funny, but they can’t live their lives with somebody who doesn’t take anything seriously.

Rekha looked at me….right into my eyes. I returned the stare. We must have looked at each other for close to 60 seconds….but it seemed like ages. Not long back we would stare into each other’s eyes for more than two hours and then rush to the bedroom for private moments. Time does play a cruel joke on lovers…with time familiarity starts breeding contempt and aging doesn’t help either.

Rekha woke me up from my thoughts on the concept of time and its effects on lovers: “And what about all these blog posts you write in my absence? Like the ones titled I am looking for a birthday partner.

“Rekha, if you hadn’t left me alone in Gurgaon and gone visiting your parents …especially on my birthday… why would I go after Priyanka Khattri? Though I have to agree that she was good.”

My evil mind started racing back to my last birthday…when Priyanka and I spent the day together. And I was about to smile the Prem Chopra way, when Rekha let go of her torpedo. She said: “Not taking you along was good because it was half the cost and double the fun.”

Still think of Priyanka Khattri, I retorted: “You always do this to me. Even when you were in Gurgaon, I never knew where you spent your evenings?”

Rekha started looking at the small book shelf we have in the corner of our drawing room, and casually remarked: “You know what…if you had come home in the evenings…you would have found me at home.”

From Rekha’s tone I could gather that she was really upset. The problem with the Rajans is that they can never see a girl in trouble, even if she was now a woman with a two and a half year old daughter in tow.

I ended up blurting: “Rekha, then lets re-live the old days…lets go out and have fun. What do you say?”

“Sure. I will take the baby with me. You just leave the lights on the verandah switched on, just in case I return before you do.”

We Rajans are magnanimous. But when it comes to self respect we have a lot of it. So an insult is an insult…even if it was from the wife. I didn’t respond & left the drawing room.

10.30 p.m.

Rekha was already in bed when I switched off the lights in the study and entered the bedroom. As I had expected, the baby daughter was in middle today (that always happened on ‘fight’ days). I was still fuming inside.

In the dark, Rekha asked me: “Is everything shut up?”

The Prem Chopra in me emerged in the dark and I sent out a sarcastic reply: “Yeah Rekha. Everything else is shut.”

There was no response.

11.30 p.m.

I could sense Rekha turning and twisting. I was doing the same. When we had got married, we had set only one rule in our marriage…that a fight had to be solved that very day. And it looked like we were about to break that promise in the fifth year of our marriage.

I had to do something. In the dark, I turned towards her and asked: “Still awake?”

She let out an as-if-you-care “Yes.”

My heart went out to her. Being the good man that I am, I turned towards her again and said: “Rekha, if I had to start all over again…I will still marry you.”

It was at least 30 seconds before I heard a reply. “That’s what you think.”

The room suddenly seemed hot. But before I could say anything nasty, a familiar hand held mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. While I lay looking at the dirty fan, I heard her say: “Hey, I was joking stupid. We aren’t breaking our golden rule today. We will save it for later.”

Hair growth on your ears? Remove them!

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 05:37:24 +0000

For the last 8-9 years of my life, there has been one outstanding feature of my personality – my ears….to be more specific, the hair on my ears.

Legend is that when the local barber’s scissors ran over my father’s hair…the neighboring village knew that my father was having a haircut. His hair was so strong and resisted death so much. But he lacked one feature…he didn’t have hair on his ears.

I remember studying in school that sometimes a particular gene is left in one generation and re-appears in the next – a phenomenon called Atavism (More on Atavism). Maybe, I have my grandpa to blame for the black, bushy set of hair on my ears.

Anyway, when I was 24 and the growth had just begun I asked my mother what this was and being the shy lady that she is, she just said: “Son, this means you are becoming a man. Now, start behaving like one.”

For the next nine years…I fought the battle alone. Today, I paid Rs 10,000 to VLCC (Vandana Luthra’s Cuts and Curves – yes, this is what VLCC means!) and now we will fight the battle together.

The decision to pay VLCC Rs 10,000 wasn’t easy. The hair on my ear was really getting to my nerves…the nerves around my shoulders that is. Here are some of the problems I have faced because of them:

1) In meetings, after taking my visiting card, and staring at it for a few seconds…the executives would look up at my face…only to stare at the dark, bushy growth on my ears. I would have to clear my throat or say “And you were saying?” to distract them.

2) You all know that I met up with Priyanka Khattri, a 22 year old beautiful lass, on my birthday this year. We were in my house and during an intimate moment, I said: “I wish I could get lost inside your sweet smelling hair,” to which she replied: “And I wish, I could say the same about the hair on your ears.” Before she left my house, she did mention that from my photographs she could never tell that I had hair on my ears. What was she hinting at? She hasn’t called me since.

3) In my house, whenever we had to buy a mop…my wife would give money to the maid …and if I was nearby, the maid would look at me and smile. I knew she was looking at my ears…but Rekha never believed and maintained I was being paranoid. For up to a week after the maid looked at me like that, I would get nightmares where she would dip me in a bucket full of dirty water, squeeze me on the walls of the bucket and mop the floor with me.

There have been some benefits too. For example, when I rode my Yamaha 135cc bike in Chennai, nobody would be able to overtake me without the hair from my ears falling into their eyes. So I rode alone, and I rode ahead.

As I was saying, I visited VLCC after a friend suggested.

A lady can very easily enter a man’s domain (a men’s college for instance)…we men will revere her courage, follow the sways of her hips in intimate detail but keep away….because we are scared of the consequences. A man entering a woman’s bastion is totally different. Women are very strong in their bastions (a VLCC like beauty, slimming center for instance). They don’t look at the man’s swaying hips and stay away…they walk up to the man and say: “Yes Sire, How can I help you?”

She was pretty & wore the VLCC uniform, which any way was designed to seduce the s*#t out of any male who by mistake entered the premises. And God was she friendly or what? When was the last time any girl got friendly with me? From her name plate, I knew she was Pooja.

“Hmm…I have heard…hmm…you have a procedure…for hair removal?” I blurted out.

“Sure sir, we can help you with that. From where do you want to remove the hair?”

Shucks! In my anxiety I had forgotten to mention my ears. At that moment, I could have distributed a million dollars amongst the poor if I only I could hide my smile but I couldn’t. She smiled back and said, “Sir, you haven’t answered my question.”

Pooja was sprawled on my bare chest and removing the hairs one by one, when I heard her shout on top of her voice: “Sirrrrrrrr…you haven’t answered my question, yet.”

“Ohh…sorry. I have hair on my ears which I want removed. I heard you have an effective procedure?”

“Yes sir. Why don’t you take your seat, I will personally take you to our resident doctor the moment she is free.”

I nodded my head, and took a seat. After sitting down, I realized I was the only male sitting amongst seven pretty ladies and what was even worse – all were staring at me. I considered it as one of the drawbacks of being a handsome, young man and ignored their stares. But couldn’t. I tried fiddling with my iPhone, but it wasn’t affective either because the very next minute four of the seven women took their iPhones out of their designer bags.

Those were the longest 10 minutes of my life….ohh wait…no they were the second longest. The longest ten minutes was when in class nine, I took a girl classmate to a movie, and had to wait for the movie to begin and the lights to be switched off before I could hold her hands.

“Sir, Dr Renu is waiting for you.”

“Sure.” Every word took its toll on me.

Once inside Dr Renu’s room, I explained how I had heard of VLCC’s procedure to remove and reduce hair on the ear. Dr Renu seemed to be impressed with me, for she came close to me, held my ear and looked at it in great detail. Pooja also did the same with my other ear. This was perhaps the closest I would ever go to fulfilling my fantasy of being with two women. I smiled again.

“Am I tickling you?” It was Dr Renu.

“No Doctor. Please take your time.”

Mind you, we Rajans are born with great amount of self control. Despite being a man in his 33s, and being a desperate being…I was able to hold myself. Just when I was reveling in these two women holding my ears, one of them started breathing down my neck. (Here is one rare instance when a girl has shown tremendous self control, when with me)

“Sir, it will be Rs 10,000.” It is important to note that she mentioned the amount while holding my ears and breathing down my neck. What can a man do under such circumstances? Like a man, I said: “Sure. No issues.”

The moment, ‘sure’ escaped my lips…the two women let go. They got me to give my debit card before the effects wore down, and within 60 seconds…I had paid Rs 10,000 and signed for it too.

“Sir, the treatment will be spread over the next six months, and you will have to visit us every month.”

“Sure. No sweat.” Why would any man complain?

“Sir, can you follow me. We will have your first session right away.”

Once inside a room sprinkled with advanced machinery, I was asked to remove my shoes and lie down on a bed. Dr Renu and her assistant (Not Pooja, she handled the Reception) went about making arrangements for the procedure.

While lying down on a bed, without ones shoes…and with two other women in the room…there is a lot that a man can imagine. I wondered why God had placed the ears above the shoulders…why not on the stomach, why not on the thighs. The list was endless.

“Sir, we will be burning your hair…so this is going to hurt a bit.”

“Yeah? Hurt? You never told me this before I paid the amount?!”

“Don’t worry sir, we will also blow cold air on your ears when we burn the hair on your ears with a really hot rod. The cold air acts like an anesthetic.”

“How hot is the rod?”

“Sir, we have never measured the temperature…but its good enough to burn. But don’t worry, after the procedure is over we will give you names of two ointments for burns that you can buy and apply on your ears.”

“That bad huh?”

I didn’t get an answer. Ten minutes later, I was out of the bed with a pair of ears that hurt like hell (now, there are visible burn marks on my ears). Apparently, my next appointment is on October 3.

On second thoughts…shouldn’t VLCC be paying me?

Best cure for Swine Flu – Laughter

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 18:40:26 +0000

Swine Flu is like Susan Boyle. It hasn’t really done much, but anyone with an internet connection has heard of it. - Read somewhere on the internet [Not heard of Susan Boyle?]

I know this article on Swine Flu is late. By the time you read this, it might not even be fashionable to speak about Swine Flu…but what could I do…there weren’t enough Swine Flu jokes on internet that I could copy.

The last time a girl called me a PIG, I thanked her for calling me a Pretty Indian Guy. But now times have changed and the same retort doesn’t hold good. Girls have started calling me a SWINE.

This article wouldn’t have come about, if it weren’t for my two and a half year old daughter who insisted that I re-read for the 1000th time the story titled: “The Three Little Pigs”. If my daughter wants something, she gets it….after all she is a cereal killer (Yes! She loves cereal. By the way, I am the first serial killer in my house…I never let Rekha watch any serials on TV). Anyway, coming back to the point…both my wife and I are scared of my daughter…so I re-read The Three Little Pigs story for the 1000th time.

Mid way thro’ the story I realized that it is the wolf and NOT Mexico that should be blamed for Swine Flu. If only the Wolf was a smart & strong blower…the three pigs would have died before they started infecting us all. (Not read the kid’s story, Three Little Pigs? Read it here).

I have another conspiracy theory that I will stand by in any court of law. I seriously think the Swine Flu is Osama Bin Laden’s handiwork. His sleeper agents in England & France started getting active in 1994 and by March 1996 the British Beef was banned and the Mad Cow Disease epidemic was born (View Mad Cow Disease Timeline). Osama’s plan didn’t go as he would have wanted and the US, one of the major consumers of steak, didn’t get affected much.

Osama Bin Laden then asked his sleeper agents in Hong Kong to start sleeping with Hens & their husbands (the roosters)…which resulted in the Avian Flu transferring to the Humans. What common folks like you don’t know is that of the 14 deaths that happened due to Bird Flu in Hong Kong in 2001, 10 were Osama’s sleeper agents (View Bird Flu Timeline). Five years & and ten deaths later…Osama Bin Laden would rue the day China declared Bird Flu Emergency…while US just laughed away unharmed.

Osama did make one last attempt to create havoc in US thro’ the bird flu – he tried to murder Donald Duck and pass it off as a case of Bird Flu. Unfortunately, when Osama’s sleeper agents kidnapped Donald Duck from in front of Disney Land’s entrance and tried to strangle him…a well built but naked man came out of Donald Duck’s clothes and ran away. I remember reading somewhere that Osama was surprised & shocked to know that Donald Duck isn’t a real bird.

After the Mad Cow disease failed to work, and Bird Flu refused to fly…Osama had to think of Swine Flu….and this time he has asked his sleeper agents in Mexico to sleep with Pigs.

Since the US had smartened after Osama’s biological warfare on US, Osama had to import the pigs in spare parts from different parts of the World and get them assembled in Mexico. Something similar to what Abdul Qadeer Khan, Father of Pakistan’s nuclear bomb did, to build his nuclear bomb. When Ouchmytoe’s correspondents tried to reach Abdul Qadeer Khan for his comments, all he had to say was: “I am upset with what my country has given in return…look at what India has given its Father of the Nuclear Bomb – APJ Abdul Kalam.”

I don’t know if you guys have seen people walking around in public places wearing stupid looking surgical masks. I have and I found that pathetic…with so many deaths from so many other diseases…why spread the panic that’s as common as common cold?

Not that I am not scared. The other day, not knowing that it was my wife who had plaited a pigtail for my daughter Rhea, I immediately rushed my daughter to the doctor…asking him if it was a Swine Flu symptom. Since the doctor knew me well, he handed me a tin and said: “Just apply this oinkment on Rhea’s forehead, twice a day and she will be fine in 3-4 days.”

Ghulam Nabi Azad, Minister of Health & Family Welfare of the Government of India is much smarter than I am. He has come up with a very smart plan to handle Swine Flu…his 9-word plan is: Stop eating bacon and pork…buy fish instead.”

I wouldn’t really mind if he had stuck to his 9-word plan….but now he has also banned Mexican Waves from all sporting events. “We will ban anything that’s Mexican,” he said in a press conference.

The never-accept-what-the-Government-says IPL commissioner Lalit Modi did try to get special permission for Mexican Waves in his IPL tournaments, citing public interest as the reason…but failed. When last heard he was in Hawaii popularizing a similar wave…just re-naming it as the Hawaiian wave.

As if his rule banning Mexican waves wasn’t enough Ghulam Nabi Azad also appeared on TV to say that swine flu was dangerous for every single person in India. I didn’t quite like the way he has been spreading the panic….but his statement does take a huge burden off my shoulders….for I am married and NOT single.

How to manipulate a woman

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 02:31:46 +0000

A few weeks back I had written an article titled ‘How to manipulate a man’. That was darn easy…just give him sex, I had advised. But today when I sit down to write on how to manipulate a woman, I know it will be difficult task. I might fail to deliver (expected, isn’t it? On which planet do men deliver?)…please bear with me. After all, the first question ‘what women want’ still remains unanswered.

Women need security. She has two issues to sort before she is even willing to let you get close enough so you can attempt a manipulation.

1) Is she feeling safe with you?

2) Is she feeling safe from the World when she is with you?

Remember, this is why a woman never falls in love at first sight. One doesn’t get to know the bank balance at first sight.

If your answer to the above two questions is ‘Yes’ you are my star and you have every right to continue reading this article. Other men may as well pick up the latest PlayBoy and head to their favorite corner.

What politicians are to the citizens of a democracy, men are to the women. We never vote for the best politician (for there aren’t any) …we always end up voting for the least corrupt. Similarly, women are forced to choose the one who is the least likely to mess up their lives – which is anyway going around and around in cycles. Period.

It is this need for security and the ability to compromise, that makes a woman prefer the guy who offered to pay the bill, though he took her to a cheap restaurant.

Never walk into the restaurant and say magnanimously: “We will go Dutch…but I will take care of the tip myself.” This just might tip the scales in favour of the guy she had been keeping aside as Plan B.

But taking her to a restaurant and paying the bill might NOT make her trust you. She might start thinking, “This guy takes me to a restaurant, and pays for my dinner. Something is definitely fishy.”

If she wasn’t already on guard with you, this act of yours will put her on guard. You might not be able to read her mind, but she can read 100s of permutations & combinations into your single smile.

Mind you, women are always on guard …which helps them in their search for ‘security’. It is as if they see these boards (see pics) everywhere they go.

In a way, we men have made the women such experts in sensing the dangers nearby.

Not wanting to be left behind, the Indian Navy has decided to give up its gender bias and plans to use a woman’s seventh sense…there will be a woman in every sea-going submarine.

This woman will have to look out for dangers under the sea. Navy has SONAR etc….but apparently they aren’t as effective. The bill hasn’t been passed in the Parliament yet…our MPs are debating over the Indian Navy’s suggestion that the woman be tied to the nose of the submarine.

Anyway once you have won over her confidence…and made her feel safe with you and from the World, when she is with you…she is ready to be manipulated.

My dear men (women, you still reading?)…there are two things you need to know about a woman:

1) Women have the inherent need to know everything

2) Women love to be flattered

Women have this inner need to know everything about the man they are interested in or have ended up marrying. Talk to her…not just about cricket scores or the latest youtube video you saw on the net. Talk to her about what you did in office, what you ate for lunch, what you spoke of when you met your colleagues in the loo, what you were thinking while driving your car back from office, what her mother in law thinks of her, what her sister in law said about her…just about everything.

On the Flattery front, here are a few stock sentences that you can use to flatter her and once she is flattered, you can manipulate the hell out of her. Remember, you are dealing with a person with a seventh sense for security…so be careful.

1) Are you dieting? Or is it the gym? You are definitely losing weight

2) Where did you get that skirt? Goes really well with those shoes.

3) Did you do something to your hair today? I am seeing something extra.

4) I was walking just behind you…and guess what, when you walked past that bus stop…all the men fainted.

5) You have such nice skin. I knew you had reached Chennai even before I had landed in Chennai.

There are certain things you should never tell a woman. Even if it sounds ok to you, as a man. Sentences like:

1) If I were only half as good looking as you are…I would be your company’s CEO

2) You have such nice skin. Wish I had that too….darn these rashes!

3) Where did you get that skirt? Would love to see them crushed on the floor

4) What deo do you use? I was walking just behind you and when you walked past that bus stop…all the men fainted.

5) Did you do something to your hair today? I am an extra dosage on your shirt today

While you try these out on the women in your lives, let me do the same. With some luck, I just might succeed.

Waking up early and related sub-plots

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 01:15:34 +0000

As you are all aware, my grand father was a farmer-shepherd. My father interned as a shepherd before finding out that it wasn’t his calling and moved to farming. Farming involved getting up early and sleep walking to the fields two kilometers away, with two well built bullocks pulling you along.

Twenty days into farming, my father decided sleep was not something he was going to compromise on. So, he ran away to join the Military.

It is only these days that the kids don’t leave the first rope (read parents) till they find the second rope (read well paying jobs)… back then, youngsters didn’t mind letting go of the first rope even before the second rope was visible.

So, one morning my father decided to wake up early one last time…and walk 14 kilometers to catch a train to Madurai. The folks from the Army were hosting an Army recruitment drive at the Reserve Line Grounds in Madurai, and my father decided to try that out.

In his first attempt, he was selected for Military Intelligence. But then, somebody in the Army realized that Military Intelligence was an oxymoron and took him in, in the Electrical & Mechanical Engineering core (EME). My father would soon learn that there was no such thing as a Military Music either, but more on that later.

With no offer letter, no salary negotiation, no compensation break up, re-location costs etc…he agreed to travel to Bhopal in a train with other inductees into the Army. Things he took with him to Bhopal: One indigo colored nylon trouser (and he was wearing it), an industrial blue colored shirt (he was wearing this too), a Lifebouy soap, and a ten rupee note.

When he retired 32 years later, he was Honorary Captain – the highest designation you can get if you join the forces as a jawan.

Today he is no more, but when he was alive and kicking (me!)…he would say: “All this because I got up early that day. When you get up early, you can leave before the others spot you.”

Till now, we haven’t been able to figure out if he said this since he thought he was able to leave his village without any of the villagers spotting him because he had gotten up early …or he was a first rate philosopher and this was one of his philosophies.

Anyway, thanks to my father’s ‘get up early and win the world’ mania…his three kids now hate getting up early. Though, they get up early.

Here is now he would go about waking us up on a typical weekday:

4.45 a.m.: “Rajan, get up…its morning!”
[Yeah right. Whom are you trying to kid? Let me sleep]

4.50 a.m.: “Come on son….get up…the sun is already up.”
[If the son is already up…why don’t you go trouble the daughters? Huh?]

4.55 a.m.: “I don’t have much time…come on get up. Or things could get worse.”
[You don’t have much time for what daddy? And what could be worse than being woken up at 4.45 a.m.?]

5.00 a.m.: “Do you know it is 5 a.m. already? Even the birds have got up.”
[5 a.m.? We would have never guessed! Thank you time keeper, now if you could excuse me please I have some sleep to catch up on.]

5.00 a.m.: “OK…now things are getting bad. Who wants water sprinkled on their faces?”
[Me! Me! Me! Yeah that’s what you expect don’t you. No way…give it your best shot…I am going under the pillow]

5.05 a.m.: “I have water in my hands….one…two…three…I am going to sprinkle now.”
[I curse you that you have a similar father in your next birth. For now I am going under the pillow.]

5.10 a.m.: “You might have escaped the first sprinkle…now comes the second. And guess what, I am going to pull the pillow off!”
[I get this feeling that you love it when we suffer. Can’t your office start from 5 a.m. onwards? ]

We moved from resistance to complete surrender in just 20 minutes. So effective was my father’s persistence. Had it not been for the fact that our father had to move between my single bedroom and my two sister’s double bedroom trying to wake us up…I guess we would have manage to resist for only ten minutes.

With time we became experts in sleeping with cold water sprinkled all over our faces. That was when our father increased the stakes. Here are a few of his ‘torture’ techniques:

He would take a towel drenched in cold water and place it on our face & feet

He would play Bappi Lahiri’s disco music on our National Panasonic and keep it next to our ear

During the summer, he would switch off the fan leaving us to sweat it out of the bed

During winter, he would pull away the kilt and leave us to die in the cold

When we were in our village, he would tie us with a choir rope and lower us into the water in the well

He continued this till I was 15 years old. On the morning of my 15th birthday, I closed my eyes tight and waited to hear my father’s monstrous voice….but none came. During breakfast he said he would continue to wake my sisters till they were also 15 years old. Apparently, after 15 we were to know what was good for us and do accordingly.

I somehow, don’t trust my father. I think his decision was driven by a conversation with my mother which I overheard a few months before I turned 15 years old.

My father asked: “Did you like the way I work up Rajan by lowering him into the well?”

My mother laughed her guts out and had responded: “At fifteen he will be 40-45 Kgs heavy…do you want to risk lowering him into the water in the well? You might pull a back muscle.”

This post was written from 5 a.m. to 6.15 a.m.. And the author has no regrets.

They start loving young these days

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 06:24:09 +0000

Way back in 1963 when India was reeling under the pressures of the 1962 Indo-China war, and the scammed Defence Minister VK Krishna Menon was cooling his heels God knows where (perhaps in God own Country), a 16 year old village girl was falling in love.

Selvi was in love with the shepherd who took his 100 odd goats to the meadows, from in front of her house. He looked strong, had enough goats and had once smiled too – meaning he can be made happy. She decided to get married to him. But God had other plans for her.

Forty six years later, my mother tells me that she didn’t have the courage to walk up to her father and tell him that she loved a shepherd and NOT the Armyman he had planned for her. But as always happens, God had other plans…she married the Armyman – my father.

In stark contrast is what we experienced in Rhea’s Parents Teachers Association Meeting yesterday at Modern Montessori International at Gurgaon. Here is how it unfolds.

The watch man at the school gates looked at my two and a half years old daughter, who was safely cocooned in Rekha’s arms and said: “Hey Rhea, how are you and what plans for the weekend?”

I wanted to turn into a ventriloquist and speak out in Rhea’s voice: “Actually uncle, this weekend I plan to pee & shit in my diapers 13 times, mince my fingers in between the doors once, smell a rose bush and in the process pierce my nose with a thorn.”

But I didn’t because I can’t mimic Rhea, yet.

We then met the receptionist of the school – a very pretty lady. The problem with attending a PTA meeting is that, you can’t pretend that you are unmarried. Even if you manage to convince that you are unmarried, where will you hide your child? Let us say you are a Mr Natwarlal and manage to hide your child….what do you do with your wife?

Considering all these constraints, I didn’t look at the receptionist in the eyes and say: “You looking pretty, today. What do you think of me?” Besides, Rekha was right behind me.

[Know the famous Johnny Bravo line: “You smell kinda pretty. Wanna smell me?”]

But I did gather the courage to discuss the receptionist’s beauty with my wife.

“She is very pretty. Isn’t she?” I insisted.

“Every woman is pretty. And she is definitely pretty.” Rekha callously remarked.

“Should I compliment her?” I asked.

“Why? Are you her boy friend? Or Husband?” My wife has these pre-conceived notions that certain compliments can be given by only certain people.

“I don’t need to be her boy friend to compliment her. But if you want me to become her boy friend first and then compliment, I am fine.” A husband shouldn’t always be scared of his wife. He should learn to raise his voice when he is right.

The problem with being a very obedient husband is that you aren’t expected to raise your voice and when you do you are silenced with a killer stare.

Anyway, finally we got down to what we had come for – the Parents Teachers Association Meeting. Here is what Rhea’s teachers had to say about Rhea. As always, expert comments in the brackets have been provided by me.

1) Very affectionate child (just like how her father is with all the women)
2) Loves Rhyme Time (just like how her father is. At one point in his life he was multi-timing with Kavita, Geeta, & Sunita – all rhyming names)
3) She sticks to the single Malayali teacher in the Play Group (Differs with her father here. He holds no such communal bias when it comes to women)

As we were getting out of her class room, the maid who attends to the Play Group looked at us and laughed. She then pointed us out for another maid, who came running to see us. And laughed.

That’s when my antennae went up and I asked them: “What happened?”

Apparently, Rhea has a boy friend in school. His name is Yashyash. We were told they are always together…sitting in class, having snacks together and having lunch together.

We didn’t make much of it and went to the book exhibition that the school had worked out inside its walls. There we met five parents and all of them told us that Rhea and Yashyash are an item. One even said they were like Shahid and Kareena…oops…like Saif and Kareena.

Being a protective father, I asked the fifth lady parent: “How are you so sure?”

She was calm and replied: “I see them daily while dropping and picking up my son. They are always together.”

“Does Yashyash also travel in the same bus?” I asked.

“Please don’t think I am complaining but…yes…they hold hands and get onto the bus and sit next to each other,” She said sheepishly.

“And then?” I was fuming and curious to know the whole story.

“And then, they sleep off on each other,” She said. And added as an after thought: “I mean, they just doze off and get picked at their respective bus stops by their mothers.”

Post Script: On the way back, I did a litmus test of Rhea’s love. I asked her: “Rhea, whom do you love most?” I was hoping she would say ‘Appa’ and Rekha was hoping she would say ‘Amma’….but Rhea ended up saying ‘Yashyash.’

How to manipulate a man

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 02:13:40 +0000

If you are a married lady this article will be of great use to you. If you are a girl and grappling with a boy friend, this article can help you to handle your boy friend better. And if you are a guy, be warned…the lady of your life might be reading Ouchmytoe.com.

In this article we will look at how a woman can dominate her man and enslave him. If you are a woman and don’t have the time to read the whole article, here is the gist:

Give your man enough sex and he will be your slave

If you are still reading, it means you are a woman and have time on your hands…so let us continue.

Since I have been a man for the last three decades, let me assure you that I never looked at a girl and said: “Wow, just look at her…she is intelligent!”

Instead, this is how an average discussion goes. The older the men (and longer since their last marriage) the nastier the discussion:

Gentleman A: “Your 6 O’Clock.”

Gentleman B: “Who? Pretty girl?”

Gentleman A: “Yeah man. In a mini.”

Gentleman B: “Worth it? I am already looking at one sitting your at your 5 O’ Clock.

Gentleman A: “Yeah worth it. 36-26-36….I could be off by a few inches on the hips because she is sitting.”

Gentleman B: “OK, I am going to turn…you turn away.”

After letting a few drops of his saliva drop on his shirt

Gentleman A: “I owe you a beer. She has &^&^ *&* *(*(^&%^ ^&^% $%$% $%$% #$#$#$ @#@.”

Gentleman B: “Yep. The guy sitting with her must be a lucky ^&^&^%^%$.”

Like I was saying, men never look at a girl and said “Wow, she is intelligent. I want to go out with her!”…for men never go after intelligence.

Most men look at a woman like a sex object. They might not agree, but most men will have sex with any woman if only they had a place. A place with a good mattress, pillows & air conditioning is even better, because he can sleep off after sex. Don’t trust me? Conduct your own Star Plus Sach Ka Samna at home and find out.

Since I am the writer of this article I can try and salvage my chances for a night out. For me women aren’t sex objects…they are simply human beings that object to sex. Now that’s fair, don’t you think?

Once you have given your man all the sex that he needed, ask him for what you wanted. A man can’t read a woman’s mind and don’t expect him to try…for that’s very difficult. Men struggle even after three years of courtship and four years of marriage. If you don’t ask…you won’t get anything and all your efforts go wasted.

While asking him for what you wanted, please ensure these:

Step 1: Check if your man hasn’t slept off after the sex

Step 2: Give him one stress ball in each hand and ask him relax (this will also keep him from sleeping too)

Step 3: If he still feels sleepy, grab both the balls in your hands and leave him crying. I meant the stress balls.

Step 4: Time yourself and start speaking. A lecture of anything less than 3 hours will not yield results…men start listening only after the first 150 minutes because then they know if its that long it is a cause for concern

Step 5: When you ask him to do anything, don’t be polite. Order. Some strong, powerful men love to be ordered to

Step 6: If you were smarter, you would have skipped Step 1, Step 2, Step 3, Step 4 and Step 5 and as he put his cold hands inside your T-shirt, ask him: “Promise me we are going to buy a house soon…and we will be looking at all the brochures of the apartment complexes that I have short listed.”

If you are a man and are still reading this…here is a tip for you. A man gets a high when he feels a woman….but a woman gets a high when somebody makes her feel that she is pretty, sexy and irresistible. If you know she is cutting down, add a line about how she has lost so much weight and looks ravishing now.

If you still have questions on how to manipulate a man, try target practice at jv.rajan@gmail.com

P.S.: When you mail me for target practice, you can also congratulate me….for yours sincerely has been promoted to Associate Vice President.

Taj Mahal – the untold story

Jamshed V Rajan — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 17:17:28 +0000

Sucking up to your boss can take you places. But it can’t take your mom places too…so when my mother wanted to see the Taj Mahal, I had to plan the trip myself.

Ever since my father fell to Cancer in 2005, my mother has lived a lonely existence. She keeps visiting her three children but goes back to the nest that her husband built for her with his post-retirement funds. So, when she is with us and wants anything done…no questions asked…it gets done.

“Son, I would like to visit Agra,” It was my mom talking.

“Why?” I enquired.

“Haven’t you heard of Taj Mahal? It is in Agra.” It was my mom talking, again.

It wouldn’t surprise you to know that my mother is a Master of Sarcasm. Especially if my mom is dealing with ANYTHING related to her daughter in law. Now, you ask…what do I have to do with my mother’s daughter in law? Well, my mom sees me as Rekha’s hen pecked husband.

“Ohhhh Taj Mahal.” Yeah yeah…heard about it.”

“Yes son…the Taj Mahal. I thought you would also like to see it because Shah Jahan built it for his wife – in a way he is also like you.” A few drops of sarcasm fell on my T Shirt and left a strain.

Rekha who was overhearing this discussion from the kitchen, made a sudden entry and asked my mother: “But mother, do you really want to see Taj Mahal – something that was built for a wife and not for a mother?”

Before she said anything my mother smiled. I knew the smile…it was the smile of victory. Victory over an adversary…I have seen the adversaries change…from my unsuspecting father, to an unnerving relative, to me…to now Rekha. And then she spoke: “Dear Rekha, I am not going there to see the white Taj Mahal that was built for his wife Mumtaz….I am going there to see the Black Taj Mahal that Shah Jahan never got to build for his mother because he ran out of time.” (Read the myth about the Black Taj Mahal here)

Since Rekha wasn’t close to Google she couldn’t verify the claim and retort. So, Round 1 went to my mother.

Round 2 also went to my mother when I asked Rekha to call the cab guy and fix a trip to Taj Mahal.

Round 3 went to my mother when I decided to pay for the trip.

Round 4 went to my mother when she started scolding us on Sunday morning for not being ready at 5.30 a.m. to start the trip, as agreed earlier.

On Sunday at 10.00 a.m…..there I was standing right in front of the Taj Mahal and enjoying its serenity. Not for nothing does it get counted as one of the seven wonders of the World. Now, the question is…should we count the busty Israeli beauty that I followed all along in Taj Mahal, in the seven wonders of the World? She deserves it.

But seriously, standing in front of the Taj Mahal got my creative juices flowing. I mean, why would a man spend 32 million rupees (I am not even bothering to convert this number to its current day’s value!!) on a wife who was dead? Couldn’t Shah Jahan take a Golf Club membership somewhere to spend that money? Couldn’t he come up with a Swimsuit calendar like Vijay Mallya, if he had the spare cash? Or some investment in Mutual funds…maybe a house on IT Highway in Chennai…heard the real estate is giving good returns in that area.

Standing there….I could clearly visualize Aurangazeb trying to convince his father Shah Jahan to stop his wayward ways before arresting him and imprisoning him in Agra Fort.

“Father, I think you should stop.”

“Why? I love her and anyway, she was your mother.” Shah Jahan defends his decision to continue to spend money on Project Taj Mahal.

“Yeah…but I shared her love with 14 other children. I don’t even remember how many of us survived.” There was anger and innocence in Aurangazeb’s tone and one couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Imagine the number of dates with pretty babes he could have managed with 32 million rupees.

“What was I to do? The moment I clapped, all sentries left us alone…and with no TV…we didn’t have anything else to do?” At least Shah Jahan was sincere.

“Father, I can’t allow you to blow up 50 million on another Taj Mahal – this time in Black. That’s for sure.”

“But son, it is NOT 50 million…thanks to the recession I was able to pit L&T against DLF and get the best bargain. DLF is in trouble and they have promised to build a black Taj for just 32 million.”

“Sorry father, you are forcing me to arrest you. But I promise you…once you are dead I will bury you right next to my mother.”

As readers of this blog have the Agra heat to thank. Had it not been for the hot marble floors…I would have visualized a lot more.

This blog post on Taj Mahal was written by the insignificant being, Jamshed V Rajan.

Trivia 1: Just in case, you didn’t know…at the base of Taj Mahal one can read these words in Urdu – “Written by the insignificant being, Amanat Khan Shirazi”. Apparently, Amanat Khan Shirazi wrote all of that stuff that you and I can’t read.

Trivia 2: There are two-three Taj Mahal Replicas in the world. Here they are: Bibi Ka Maqbara, Tripoli Shrine Temple, and Taj Mahal in Bangladesh.

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.

Ouchmytoe.com - The Funny Blog

One job done, Rekha is looking for another

Email exchanges between five consenting, cheating adults

The five characters in this story are:

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