Earthquake

    Yeah sure you've been to Europe and New Zealand but you are not a complete man if you haven't been in an earthquake. I have been in an earthquake. Thats right, an earthquake. It hit the Bay area yesterday, October 30th 2007. Magnitude 5.6 on the Ritcher scale. I, Pulkit Desai, was there. And I survived. I am a survivor.

    Life was good before the earthquake, I tell ya. As usual my evening was packed with totally exciting possibilities. I was sitting on my couch contemplating whether to spend my time cutting my overgrown nails or reading random people's scraps on Orkut or making blank calls to my childhood crush who never liked me and is now married with a few kids. And as usual the guy in the apartment above mine was walking with a heavy foot, thumping my ceiling (I hope he dies soon) . Suddenly the apartment started shaking violently as if a ghost had possessed it. For a moment I thought the guy above me was just walking extra heavy this time but then the shaking was too powerful to be caused by a single person. Then it hit me, it was a freaking earthquake! The couch was shaking vigorously with me holding on to it. The paintings were swivelling around their hooks like rectangular pendulums. Its a good thing most of my paintings are sitting on the floor instead of being on the wall. (To know why read this post). My entire life flashed before my eyes. The little kid to whom I had taught a lot of gaalis a long time ago suddenly jumped out of nowhere and started laughing at my plight. I decided to get the hell out of there. I rushed out. The guy from upstairs was getting out too, without a shirt on. Oh wait, I didn't have one on too. I rushed back in, put on a tshirt, oops, wrong color, picked another one and rushed out. The other guy was screaming as if someone in his family had just died. He continued screaming long after the earthquake had subsided. It really traumatized him (I wish it would have killed him). The earthquake lasted for less than a minute. I entered the house again, everything was in place, no damage. The seismology deparment says there will be aftershocks in the next few days but no specific times have been provided. I just hope it doesn't happen when I am sleeping. I hate people checking me out in my nightdress.

    All in all, I feel like I have changed after this disaster. I feel insignificant in front of Mother Nature. I feel more at peace with myself. I am not as cynical anymore. I promise to be nice to people from now on. I hope the guy above me dies soon.

Salman Khan

I see many pics of Salman Khan on Orkut albums. Girls just love him. They have his pics saying "awsaam, awesomm, AwEsoME only he is, only he rocks". He drives them crazy. Many fully grown men are also mad about him. Salman is an absolute gaandu, a murderer, jerk, violent, goondaa, uneducated, woman-beating punk. The guy has only negative qualities. But he is a hit. The country loves him. Unbelievable.

Old friends

Meeting old friends is an art. How do you greet them when you guys meet for the first time in fifteen years? I mean you were tight and all back then. Now its been a while and not really consequential anymore. Who da phuck imagined this little punk, your friend, has grown into this man with a hairless head, hairy legs, a moustache and a kid ! Its almost as shocking as seeing your little brother grow from a cute little baby into this towering monster casting his heavy weight around, but mentally still gentle as a lamb. I digress. How do you greet old friends? Hey, Amit, how you doing?Hey, Pulkit, how are you? All this while you are just replaying in your mind the kind of shit you guys pulled off when you were little. Stuff that would make the elders wanna commit mass suicide. But that is a story for some other time. And Amit, here you are with a kid? What do you tell him?

Social work.

A peasant Marathi couple receives some training in basic computer skills and the English language from a non-profit organization. In a village of illiterates these are the only seemingly advanced people. These days the family talks like they are the Gods because sometimes they attempt to fix the old turtle-ass windoze'95 computer in the local dawaa-khaana, the only computer in the village of five thousand people. They are the talk of the town. Not much happening down there. But a peaceful life, no magaj-maari. The exciting part of their evenings is discussing how they managed to repair the computer and how smalltown gaavtis are conquering the tech world. Following is one such late evening conversation between Barkya-the son, Meeta-the oversweet daughter, Champa-the mother and Gopi-the father. The family is gathered around the tiny kitchen illuminated by a dim light bulb, clothes hanging from various hooks in the wall, paint peeling off from the ceiling, Gopi and Barkya in ganjees riddled with holes and chaddees with colorful line patterns that only Marathi men can be seen wearing.

Champa : Arrey, tey Baarkya chaa maitrini's wife got pregnant disk. hee hee sorry, fragment disk. I forgot how to repair. Something defrock, defraack, techya maaila!

Punk-ass son Barkya: Defrog, defraaag, kaai-tari pan! Vedi zaali kaa?

Extra sweet daughter Meeta : Disk Defragmentor !

Half-drunk Gopi : waah waah ! chaan chaan!

Gopi : Tumhala kaai maahit naahi! I go today to fix the hard problem. Blue screen !

Everybody : aga baaya! Kaay saanghtaas kaay ?

Gopi : Blue screen. Looking at me. Laughing at me.

Barkya : Feku nako re ! Fukat chaa tension.

Champa : Gup bus rey baarkya, tujha maaila!

Barkya : Manjhe tula naa, aai?

Champa : GUP BUS !

Champa : Tar kaay kela tumhi ? Laavli vaat Bill Gates chee ?

Gopi : Arrey, Bill Gates laa mee ek kaan-phaadi deeli. Billia, bagh, maazaa shee nako bhaandan karu. Tula mee karel...... reboot ! Gelaa blue screen, hoy kee!

Everybody : lai besht ! lai besht!

Everybody : clap ! clap !

The entire village is thrilled about how the super-family continuously solve caampooter problems. The villagers have seen the caampooter but they don't know what the heck is it for. They have seen things move on it, some photos, some color but mostly they are terrified by it. Not to worry. The super-duper-family will be there for the rescue. Lots of progress.

What triggered this vision is a real life "help the gaav-waala" effort I participated in when in college. I saw a flyer in the Juhu area and decided to join-in. They were trying to make a village computer-literate. It was a remote place, a 4 hour train journey from Dadar. I was expecting some idelogical nerds to lead the effort, instead I saw rich hot housewives from Juhu and even hotter daughters and sons in charge. The village was decorated as if a royalty was about to arrive. The village girls performed a pooja, a dance, we had some delicious food, some ribbon cutting and nonsensical speeches by pretty aunties and their kids. For quite a while I did not see the computer. Eventually I saw it. It was an old machine donated by one of the rich aunties. Nobody knew whether it worked or not. They turned it on, windows booted after an hour or so. That aunty's son had probably downloaded a truckload of porn causing it to slow down. One family in the village (Gopi's) was appointed to look after the computer. Nobody told them what to do with the computer. The remainder of the evening was spent lazing around the village and getting served by the gaavwaalas. I don't know if that computer was ever turned on again or if it did anything useful. And I kept wondering throughout the outing, why would the aunties take so much pain to travel all the way from Juhu to God-knows-where. They were too glamourous for social service. Ok granted that social workers need not neccessarily look dorky, but they usually are. The thinking probably goes as "I am a total dork so I will help others to heal my pain". (no offence meant; Asha, AID, Saheli you guys rock,serious) But these aunties? What the hell were they thinking? Maybe their husbands were conspiring to take over the village zameen. Maybe they wanted to show their kids how lucky they were to be born in a rich family. What did they want from all this tamasha? Its drives me nuts !

The moment of truth

The moment of truth arrives when , after a long sweat-consumed workout session, you come home, had an ok day at work, have some spicy Thai Green curry, pour yourself a glass of Guava juice, turn on your 55 inch TV, slouch on your leather couch and play the next nail-biting episode of Office, you realize, life is good, here.

Write sense

Write sense I am being told. I ask what is sense in this world of non-sense ?

One night in a desi cyber cafe.

A new cyber cafe has just opened a few streets away from the ambaawaadi basti. It has 10 cubes in a 10 by 10 kholi. The main patronage is lower middle-class workers and daily wage earners like construction workers, carpentars, chaiwallahs, school going kids and petty Shiv Sena thugs who really don't have much going on for them these days. The customers are not extremely poor; once in a while they can afford to spend 20-30 rupees for pleasure. They arrive at the cyber cafe at around 10 in the night. Most of them have just finished eating their daily meals with their families, many smelling of daal or sambhaar and will now start browsing hardcore pornography in cramped cubes. Not all of them though. You will find an occasional student trying to look up US university rankings (wanting to get the hell out of this shithole) or emailing her friend in America. The tubelights are bright and the cubes are well covered; they have to be, it gets pretty ugly in there sometimes. Its not sound proof though. You can hear noises emanating from the tiny dingy cubes. On their computer screens are white women of various shapes and sizes spread out in various positions in various locations. The dhool that made the laborer's skin pitch dark contrasts starkly with the white bodies flashing vulgarly on their screens. Its heavenly for them in there. Who could have imagined that apnaa Babloo who never got so much as an accidental glance from the neighbourhood jhaadoowaali would be indulging in blonde foreigner women on an island in America. Babloo's story is different though. He is not angootha-chaap like others. He is 10th pass. He can read and write broken English and works as a peon. He wants to reach out to the mysterious heavenly women not just via his eyes but also via his poetic words. He wants to communicate. So he chats. He has been talking to JessicaHotForU, a lady from America he says, for a few months now. Jessica has sent Babloo a picture of hers; it looks like Britney Spears. Wait, it is Britney Spears! Babloo was very excited about Jessica looking so pretty. At this point nobody knows whether Jessica really looks that pretty or if she is really a she at all. Babloo also sent his picture to her; actually Salman Khan's. Hey, everything is fair in love and war. Today Jessica is coming late he proudly tells the cafe attendant. They are all amazed that Babloo is able to communicate with these women. Babloo logs on in his internet room. Jessica is already waiting.

Babloo : hai Jessica. you told you get late today?

Babloo : you are there?

...long silence...

JessicaHotForU : yeah, sorry sweety.

Babloo : hai Jessica.

JessicaHotForU : hi how are you sweetheart?

Babloo : I am enjoying talking to you daily.

JessicaHotForU : me too honey.

.....long silence....

Babloo : you are there?
JessicaHotForU : yes, too many people online today. LOL!

Baboo : how many people you talking?

JessicaHotForU : depends.

Babloo : I only talk you.

JessicaHotForU : awww. How sweet.

Balboo : you liking?
...long silence...
Babloo : What are you wearing today darling?
JessicaHotForU : nothing.
Babloo : Wow. I want to be with you and fuck you now only.
JessicaHotForU : come and get it sugar.
Babloo : I want to come America. But very hard to leave company. My five-star hotel very busy. But I get good money from business. I get tickets to America and live with you. But visa is problem.
JessicaHotForU : You own a five-star hotel? lol !
Babloo : Yes, partnership with friend.
JessicaHotForU : wow. I wanna come and check it out.
Babloo : Yes, yes. Please come to India.

...long silence...

Babloo : You are there?

JessicaHotForU : Yeah.

Babloo : Actually I want to ask question. I never love anybody. Only you. And I know you from 3 month. It is love at first sight.

JessicaHotForU : Me too sweety.

Babloo : Really? Then you want to come and live with me?

JessicaHotForU : Sure. lol !

Babloo : I want to marry you. I have experience your body many times. Now I want to be your husband.

JessicaHotForU : wow. no kidding. LOL.

Babloo : I am very serious. I want to marry you. You will be like queen. Lot of money for you.

...long silence...

Babloo : You want to marry me?

JessicaHotForU : Dude, what the fuck are you talking about? You think I am going to marry a diseased third world towelhead dothead snake-charmer like you?

Babloo : Why you angry? I love you Jessica. You love me too. We not fight after we marry. I wear towel only after bath and not on head, on my body to cover my, heee heee, huge dick, that you like, hee hee. What is dothead darling?

JessicaHotForU : Piss off dumbass.

Babloo : Your language I not like. After marry you change bad language.

JessicaHotForU : Screw you bloody terrorist.

...long silence....

Babloo : Why you quiet darling?

JessicaHotForU : Mother fucker, don't ever talk to me again.

Babloo : I am feeling very bad. I love you. You break my heart if you talk like this. Can you send me another photo of you? My friends say its not right photo. I told, they liars. Now I think they right. You not right.

JessicaHotForU : Ok dude, you are on my ignore list. Tata !

Babloo : What is ignore list?

Babloo : Send me another photo.

Babloo : You are there?

Balboo : Darling?

...long silence...

Babloo : Saali harami.

Babloo logs off. He is heartbroken. This is the fifth time a foreigner woman has played games with his heart. He says he will never fall in love again. He feels used. He pays the 30 rupees to the cyber cafe guy and heads out leaving his friends behind, moaning and groaning in their respective cubes. He goes home, opens the door. The tiny kholi is jam packed with his family sleeping on the floor. He gets to his spot, covers himself up with an old torn bedsheet and cries himself to sleep. On the other side of the world JessicalHotForU shuts down his computer, takes off his skirt, puts his pants back on and goes to work.

Technology has finally united developed and developing nations.

Indians are so loving.

I mean it. Indians are so loving. Your uncles, aunts etc, they are always concerned about you. You fucking matter. You fall sick you get 10 calls a day. Everybody is available for you at a moment's notice. Here, you have to think twice before asking somebody for help. So freaking formal. Where the fuck are we living? Or maybe not, here I can count so many people who would help any moment. And I am rarely formal. Love America. Proud to be H1-B visa holder. Green Card pending ! Uncle Sam, main aaya aaya aaya ! Dude, get your act together.

Home sweet home

You enter the room, its dark and cold outside. There is nobody around, not a single soul. In India it would be packed to the brim with sabzeewaali, bhaandiwaali, hajaam, gorkha and a little wretched dog who has nowhere to go and nothing to do. Nopes. Its dark and lonely outside your door brother. The door opens, a pile of newspapers is lying besides the door. The freaking paperwaala does not stop delivering no matter what. The house is well furnished but looks totally shabby. No matter how much money you spend on this money-hogger, it never stays fresh. Clothes lying around, shirts, shoes, underwear, whatever. The floor is mostly covered with clothes and you have to constantly navigate through clothes to be careful about clothes that you might wanna wear the next day. Laundry you have not done in months. Freaking your clothes have'nt been washed since months. Cups lying around. Coffee half-drunk. Smells of stale coffee. ewww. WTF is going on brother? Smells of fungus infested juice too. The smell is just disgusting. Ok maybe not that bad. But you get the point barobar? You think this is disgusting? I think its ok. But sometimes, restrooms, they are so freaking disgusting. Oh ma God, do not wanna go there brother. And the kitchen and closet and what not. The point is, you could live like this. Someone I know lives like this. No, its not me. Sorry to ruin your fantasy. Pervert.

Prediction

Abishek Bachchan and Aishwarya Rai will break up within two years from today. Putting panvati now - om phaat !

Bhaaji and stocks

A day in the life of a Bombay housewife.
6 am . The first bell rings. The doodhwaala is at the door. Already in a sitting position. Ready to spurt milk. Lady yawns in her bed, another freaking day, what a bhangaar life. Without brushing her teeth she walks up straight to the door. Opens the door, lady in gown, doodhwaala liking it, aah haa behen'ji. Lady opens dirty mouth. Bad smell in doodhwaala's face. Doodhwaala getting the hell outta here. Kitna liter? Lady says two, gets her milk, paani kum daalo kal se, she says. Doodhwaala says "arrey behen'ji , paani to hum kabhi nahi daalte". Freaking the same dialogue has been going on between housewives and doodhwaalas since the beginning of time. Somebody please give up !

10 am (After many many bell rings from gorkha, kaamwaali, istree waala, courier, and a little punk who just coming from his morning walk decides to play a prank to ring her bell and run away.Also, after making breakfast for her husband, nice omlettes with no grease,and seeing him off prim-n-proper ) finally she wakes up. Two things are of utmost priority. First making lunch. For herself. No, not for husband, husband typically has lunch outside, not like the good'ol days, nope. What a pain in the butt, cooking for yourself. That is the worst punishment. Second priority is check on the market. Not the bhaaji market. Stock market. Daily ups and downs are monitored just as the price of kaandaa batata. On one hand she is sitting on the floor saaree all rolled up to her thighs, peeling potatos and on the other hand she is making calls to her stock broker to buy Tata, sell Birla, kill Reliance. All the behemoths of the financial world are getting sold by gharwaalis daily. Saala public pareshaan. She probably makes a couple hundred and is happy about it one day and then loses a thousand the next. But hey, gives her something to talk about. Why can't she enjoy gambling. Roll on, sistaa.

Every hour is different. When I was a teenager, one dumbass told me that housewives get bored and are constantly horny for young teenagers. Thats bullshit. They've got the best lives ever. They are very happy. Let them be.

11 am, 12, 1, etc to follow....depending on shocking insights that I get.

How much time.

How much time do you need to hook two screws into a painting and deck up your bedroom wall? Lift the hammer, pop it in the wall. Like, phataa-phat. 10 minutes. Then your life becomes relaxed, you have these beautiful Monets and MithunDa poster paintings singing you sweet lullabys to put you to sleep. Like Mona Lisa's sweet smile or Mithunda's sweaty laal rumaal, soothing you, hush baba hush. I mean, life will change. Freaking. Then why ! why ! tell me that we have not hooked it up yet? Freaking we got these paintings 6 months ago. Its lying in a half-unpacked box in a very visible corner of the house. No effort is taken to move the paintings, hide them, hook them up, nothing. Guests come and guests go, they all watch it, get a little curious then try to pass it off as if its not a big deal. Probably declaring me as lazy and unorganized, which I am. Sejal is getting to be one too, living with me. After a couple years she will lose it too. Returning to the topic, when will I hook it up? Newsflash. I am not hooking it up. I call it half naked modern art. Freaking.

Gotta have one mindless rant.

Please stop reading this if you cannot tolerate junk talk and filthy language. The best part of life is a bank balance. Of course, the worst part is also a bank balance. Freaking you hate money at one instance and then freaking you love it. I spent a big chunk of my life in Mumbai plus I am a Gujju so everything I do is eventually for money ; everything. I wouldn't take a crap if it didn't save me money in terms of doctor's bills. Ok, going off topic, right about now. For money, becoming a bhai is acceptable too. But then nobody is going to get scared of a balding Gujju bhai, so can't be that. But that brings up another good point, all the top bhais of Mumbai are total chakkhas. Their voices, their looks are so feminine. They wear such colorful clothes. No big bhai looks like a scary movie bhai. Here are a couple, Dawood-anna and Chotee Shakeela....

I digress. Moving on. In search of money. Engineer ban jaa, doctor ke liye terepass dimaag nahi. Engineer banaa to ideological gaandu ban gayaa. Badi badi baat, uski tho. Poverty hatao, politicis gundaa hain, blah blah. US mein MS karne aaya, Nobel prize jeetega. Tera baap baitha hain naa uppar tereko Nobel dega? Ek se ek badhkar baithe hain idhar. Chal phut. Theek hain, ijjat se job karenge, paisa kamaaenge, mast aaram. To waapas, money money money. Bhukkad saala. Phir paisa aaya to its not a big deal. Paisa gayaa to aaila, maa ki aankh! Saala emotional roller-coaster constantly. Hippie Austin mein rahke job karke thoda thanda hua, to company IPO jaati hain. Waapas money money money. Stock uppar uppar jaata hain to dil hoon hoon kare, ghabraaye; khopdi dhan dhan kare, khul jaaye. (song from the movie Rudali, what a junk movie,who makes such movies, ok I haven't watched it yet). Anyway. Phir stock girtaa hain to sapna toot gayaa. Thats a different story alltogether, read the one towards the beginning of my blog. Bola chhod, kaaheko maatha-phodi, kaam karo. To thoda kaam kiya. Waapis thanda hua, money crazy gone, resigned to my fate, to doosri company (ekdum chakaa-chak company bolta hain baap) phone karke nayaa job ka offer. Job change, doosri company gayaa to uskaa stock bhaaga. Saala almost double ho gayaa. Uski maa ki. But can't sell due to restrictions. Waapas, dil hoon hoon. Abhi aaj date hain 2nd october 2007. Idharich bolega. Next year same date pe stock agar double nahi hua to main samajh jaayega, bhagwaan apun ke saath game khel rela hain. Bhagwaan, tu hain, tu hain. Sorry tereko itna ignore maara. Bus kar bhagwan, bus kar. (Collapses with the dumroo tied to his feet. The taandav is over. Dukaan bandh.)

ICICI bank bhaigiri - update

Update to the original blog posted on ICICI bank bhaigiri. After reading my blog ICICI has decided to give the dead man's family 15 lakh rupees. Jo jeetey jee nahi kar sakaa woh markey kar dikhaya. Saali apni Indian economy is so strong, now suicide is also giving good returns. Don't forget to invest in it. Know any poor, depressed, bankrupt people? Want to make money? Are you thinking what I am thinking?

The sky is not falling

Dukh bhare din beetey re bhaiyya. The downslide stopped. Fed reduced interest rates by a whopping 0.5%. Helicopter Bernanke (he once said if there is a cash shortage in the market he will get in a helicopter and throw cash on the streets) finally blinked. In a recent interesting article in the New York Times one analyst talks about how the Fed has to keep pleasing wallstreet just like a mom pacifies its baby. Only the baby here is the rich wallstreet banker who gets scared as soon as he hears the baby next door sneeze. The problem is that the baby is strategically placed and hence needs to be mollified constantly or else it starts pulling out its investments from the market. Then all babies follow causing a domino effect. The markets are jumping higher now. Doesn't matter if reducing interest rates may (note *may*) lead to inflation (or may not) so in short its possible that you will have a lot of money but your money won't be worth much because everybody around you has a lot more too. Who cares about that for now. Enjoy the ride. See your investments grow. Let the good times roll. Kya pataa, kal ho naa ho.