Chat Register 3

shauncoutinho: 2 GB is the single player version...

we want multiplayer!

me: yaaa

shauncoutinho: so we can KHILL u

kheeeeel uuuu

me: so we can killl alllllllllllllllllll

shauncoutinho: and kill some xerox machines also

me: eh why i like xerox machines

i'll settle for some typewriters tho

shauncoutinho: so the keys can fly out and spell something

me: and, i say, let them spell DHIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

oh but dont they have only one 'E'

shauncoutinho: there arent' so many eee

lol

me: ah knew there was a problem

shauncoutinho: no problem, we'll blow up a bunch of typewriters!

me: ah, Jeeves, u scinitillate today, what a brainwave...for brains you up there among the best

shauncoutinho: thank u sir

(i kno)

muahahah

or respectful cough?

me: like the distant bleeting of a diffident sheep on a mountain top!

shauncoutinho: baaaaah

me: but now to follow one of ur sayings, u put it so well i say, if 'twere done, it twere well done if it 'twere don quickly

there is a tide in the affairs of men, which when taken at the flood leads to good fortune

shauncoutinho: our fortune being the **** book?

me: lets serve a noll prosequi to work and test intra office network

me: so are we testing LAN

shauncoutinho: are we?

me: i think we should keep a regular tab

shauncoutinho: we can transfer files too and fro

me: ah...rem acu tetigisti...u've put your finger on the nub of the problem again

lets start

shauncoutinho: ok you copy files to the **** folder on my comp

and then i'll copy them back

me: eh?

shauncoutinho: lemony plan eh?

me: there seems to be a miscommunication somewhere

shauncoutinho: networks not workin as it should?

me: i think we need to choose teams

shauncoutinho: im on ur side, we'll fight isaax together

isaax has a better ring to it

than *****

me: yes now we've hit the nail on the head

shauncoutinho: nail to the heart

me: hmmm...maybe we petition his parents if he has any

and ask him to do the required changes to their product file

shauncoutinho: they probably want to be rid of him too

we'll be doin them a favour

me: ah...what better way to do that than rename him isaax and refuse to recognise him after

shauncoutinho: like the son they always had but wish they had a daughter in stead

yes all legal documentation shall be rendered invalid after that

me: only this daughter has a fungal growth on the upper lip

shauncoutinho: and sparse growth on the cheeks

me: i'm telling u he might have been interchanged as a kid by a wicked gypsy for a duck and he's been like that ever since

me: dudde **** is THIRTY bloody Five GBeee

shauncoutinho: thirty five ebbegeebees worth 3 rupees each

me: ah thats only 105 rupees shaun

shauncoutinho: worth rs 3 per MB

me: ah more like it...

shauncoutinho: lets tell him that

we're charging you ONLY rs 3 per MB

Chat Register 1

shauncoutinho: the eagle is in the cage

me: eh?what what what what what

shauncoutinho: the rabbit is in thebag

the kangaroo is in the pouch

me: the what is in the what? are you alright my dear friend...you seem to be weirdly drifting back to your animal roots.

I say STOP! Stick around, life's bound to get better if not worse. Anyway why go thru life looking like an overdone beef chop...take it with a pinch of salt i say...one is not get out of it alive anyway...

shauncoutinho: fine, if you want me to spell it out for you (numbskull) the CD is in the TRAYme: ah...you weirdly interest me...is that the CD i might or might not have given you 5 min ago...i am not confessign to anything until i get more information before you accuse my dear lemon of being numb

Hydrophobics Poem - The waters chased him as he fled, by Emily Dickinson (* http://famouspoetsandpoems.com)

The waters chased him as he fled,
Not daring look behind --
A billow whispered in his Ear,
"Come home with me, my friend --
My parlor is of shriven glass,
My pantry has a fish
For every palate in the Year" --
To this revolting bliss
The object floating at his side
Made no distinct reply

-Emily Dickinson (courtesy www.famouspoetsandpoems.com)

Bombay: Rickshaws

Whoa...back again. I remember writing once before that its been a long time since I blogged. I'll say it once again. This time though the absence has been more than a year long (thankfully for the audiences. I can faintly hear the sighs and 'oh god! he is back' rising from the back of the hall, especially those dimly lit parts where one cant make out who is sitting next to you but one can definitely make out! AHEM now to get back to what I was saying...). I had forgotten how much fun blogging can be. Or for that matter how very cathartic, if cathartic is the word I am looking for. But the point is that if one is blogging, one definitely better have something to say. One cannot just blabber away, hit keys at random and generally create a nuisance.

So let me tell you about one old creed of Bombayites. They are normally called Rickshaw-wallas, but sometimes also 'bhaiyas' and other more opprobrious names.They tend to come in as many variations as there are rickshaws on our super highways. Each three wheeled contraption is supplied by a unique driver. Their uniqueness manifests in different forms. Its easier on the customer but dangerous for the traffic when the manifestation is physical in respect to their vehicles. Mostly this is seen at the back, just above the flimsy crash bumper (which actually is a strip of metal held on to the rick by a liberal application of glue). They are normally awesome vector arts of hindi film actors or actresses. Andy Warhol would definitely get an inferiority complex. This art, if I might call it that, reached the zenith, when one had a complete vector art set of all the characters of Sholay pasted all over the rick. Gabbar Singh would have been proud!

Besides this visual exuberance, one has to keep in mind, what Jeeves would call 'the psychology of the individual'. And you are bound to come across psychotic behaviour before long. Ranging from drunk ramblings to rickshaw seat shrinks to meter-pinging philosophers to road-rash romeos to...well I don't think there is a need to make a production number of it. I am confident that you get what is called the gist. P.G.Wodehouse would have found rickshaws to be an inexhaustible source of humour.

Rickshaws, like all historic inventions, have given rise to situations which would not have existed but for them. Getting a rickshaw to take you to your destination is an art one learns, or rather has to learn in Bombay. The following few true life instances should explain:

engaging of the mighty rickshaws -

true life instance No.1
me: khar chaloge?(dear sir would you be kind enough to take me to Khar...please??)
Rick 1: [bewildered expression] khar?(khar?!?)
me: ha khar (yes sir. you said it. Khar it is)
Rick 1: [ruminates...masticates...] Khar mein kaha janeka? (where in Khar do you wanna go?)
me: Khar west...S.V.Road
Rick 1: [frown on face] S.V.Road??? (is it in bombay????)
me: haan S.V.Road. (yes sir!!! you are scintillating today. correct...S. bloody V.Road)
Rick 1: highway se nikalneka? (do you want me to take the highway?)
me: nahin...linking road se (no sir. I would be infinitely obliged to you if you would kindly take the linking road)
Rick 1: time kya hua? (what is the time?)
me: [bewildered expression] eh? 12.30!
Rick 1: night charge lagega (will have to charge you the night charge)
me: abey din ka 12.30 baja...(Ha Ha...you crack me up...its 12.30 in the afternoon)
Rick 1: nahin...nahin janeka (bugger off...I shall not be moved from my resting place)
me: toh itna lamba interview kyon liya???
Rick 1: #^^@^#
me: $&@#&)@#&@#@#*%**&^^*(&(&)&()*()*)*)*(*)

true life instance No.2
Rick 2: kahan janeka saab? (where do you want to go sir?)
me: kahin nahin...road cross karneka hai (nowhere...I want to cross the road)
Rick 2: achcha...chalo baitho (oh ok...sit, i'll drop you)
me: abey yeda ho gaya hai kya? (have you lost your senses???)
Rick 2: arrey saab sabere se bhada nahin mila...aadha bhada de dena (sir, havent done any business since morning...sit...you need pay only half the fare)
BEST Bus driver: ayyy umitabh bachpan...kya re hema malini baithi kya andar???rickshaaa lene ka toh le nahin to nikal... (dear sir, you are holding up traffic. Please hire the rickshaw if you need to or let it pass so we may be on our way and everyone is happy as ever)
me: oi kishore kumar...awaaj band kar...ye yeda mereko road cross karne nahin de ra...tereko jaane ka to jaa iske upar se...(ah! I apologise for the inconvenience my dear public servant. I shall correct it as soon as I can.)
BEST Bus conductor: abey hero chal nikal nahin to bus chadata main (oh very good sir! we shall await developments. hope they are conducive for us to resume our onward journey)
me: abey Rajnikanth...ghanti baja (very good. I shall do the needful old pal)
BB conductor: chya-aila, rajnikant kisko bola re...ghe re yala...(kill the bourgeous...long live socialism...atleast long live mob justice....)
me: ackkkk!!! huff pufff hufff {to myself: run forest!!!!}

Note: Some parts of the above reminiscences might be a tad polluted / fabricated, owing to a lengthy passage of time between the time of occurrence and that of publishing. Any loss of information in translation is entirely due to the literary shortcomings of the chronicler.

guess...

thumb thick stick,
used to beat ur chick,
treat her like a mule,
was the originator of this rule,
she's a human not a cow,
so it's a proverb now!!!

ps: someone used the term "rule of thumb" while discussing a design in the office today,
and this little lymeric flashed through my head concerning the "thumb rule" and how
it came about. By the way...tis my own handiwork :)

back!!!

its been a while now...actually 5 months.
I heard people blog everyday...hmmmm. What do these people write about? Apparently their own lives, things they do, or anything thats going on in their head at the time they blogging. Oh! they also put up pictures. Verry nice...only some of them actually.
Many things have happened to and around me too, which I could have written about...but I doubt the entertainment value of such an endeavour. As in, I will be seriously worried about the sanity of a person who will come everyday to my blog just to check out what animal I resembled when I woke up in the morning or how I felt when the boss hit me over the head with the keyboard.
Besides, most of the time I hardly have anything worthwhile to say.
Like right now...I am just blabbering away. Why? Just because I felt like it. And whatever I am writing is not entertaining or interesting. So I think I should just stop.

HYDERABAD

THE FLIGHT:
Landing at N.T.Ramarao airport I was a little apprehensive. My first time in Hyderabad. Had just got off my first ever flight (yes & yes I am 24…so?!). I know this is nothing eventful for the frequent flier whose Flying Miles register goes ding everyday. But for a novice it was an experience of a lifetime.

An early morning flight saw me getting up at 3.30 in the morning. Reached the domestic airport at 5. Checked in, had a coffee, waited for 16 years and finally it was time to go. Stepping on to the aircraft, I am greeted by an airhostess. A very cheerful “GOOD MORNING”. So cheerful that I started doubting the genuineness of the greeting. Nobody in their right mind can be that happy at 5.30 in the morning. Anyway, I let it go. I went and found my seat & deposited myself in my seat. AN AISLE SEAT!!! Yeah I know, I also know you know what I mean. It had been only two minutes and I was taking in my surroundings, admiring the back of the seat in front of me, perusing the very entertaining emergency manual, when a shadow loomed over me. I looked up to discover a 6 feet male smiling at me in a very sinister manner. Immediately I realized he had some hidden reason for smiling at me. Why, you ask me, did I suspect him and his beatific smile? My reason I have already given you. It was bloody 5.30 in the morning. How does anybody be so cruel as to wish people good morning or even smile at them.

HA! I know I had caught him. He knew I knew. The smile was gone and the real reason finally came out. “Please excuse me” he threatened, “the window seat and the seat next to you is mine” he concluded. Hmmm…a ruse to get me out of my comfortable aisle seat I deduced. Then his wife joined him. I was outnumbered. I had to give in so I got up grudgingly. They had some logistical problems but they finally managed to shove themselves in and ultimately I was allowed to gracefully plonk my ass on my seat.

And so started my adventure. 15 minutes later everyone was settled. The maniac next to me started snoring peacefully. His wife asked for ear plugs and resigned herself to admiring the wings and the beautiful engine. A couple and their children in the seat behind me settled into a very entertaining game of “crying-barfing-crying-pacifying”.
And then started the announcements. The guy on the address system hissed & lisped his way through an already confusing set of instructions and after finishing it in Hindi, he went on to show his oratory prowess in English. That done, the captain came online. THE CAPTAIN…Indiana Jones, Sean Connery and that man from “Gods must be Crazy” rolled into one. He enlightened us mere mortals on the temperature outside, the air-pressure inside, the wing span of the BOENG 737-800, the fuel capacity, max speed, year of manufacture and then concluded by informing us that the said aircraft is the one we are residing in and that it will take off from Runway No. 14 in ten – “Fiften” minutes. PIN DROP SILENCE prevailed. Not a word (or a snore). We were in awe of this enigmatic Captain. Anyway, so he finally meanders the plane to the runway (14). Everything and everyone in position. And then the burst of speed and we are on our way.

The aircraft reaches the intended height, stabilizes and the warning “deploy seat-belts” sign goes off. I immediately jump up to visit the loo. Anyway I get back to my AISLE seat and my left elbow is obligingly smashed to pulp by the over-polite stewardess. I glare at her, she gives me a saccharine sweet smile, a miniature bottle of water, a credit card enrolment form and coolly walks away. The rest of the flight was uneventful except when we hit turbulence. This was thanks to a middle aged gent at the back of the plane who had gorged on gujju farsans for breakfast. The gaseous cloud spread its deathly tentacles in the cabin…oxygen masks deployed… “deploy seat belt” sign on…fifteen minutes of prayer and everything is back to normal. High fives all around. HURRAY!

Finally its time to land. ALREADY?!? I enquire and as if he sensed it, the captain informs me from inside his cockpit that we are 15 minutes ahead of schedule. Everyone seems to be pleased by this piece of information. So even I plaster my face with a smile and flash it to everyone who cared to look in my direction so that they don’t think of me as a novice, a debutante. Frankly, I was very disappointed. I thought the daredevil captain will do a few 360 degree turns, a free fall and a steep ascend. But no, no show.

SUDHANSHU meets YEHANGIR:
I get off the plane in disappointment and a set mind to go and give some advice on “Inflight Entertainment” to the aviation minister. I am mulling over the draft of the letter when I observe a man standing at the reception with a placard proudly proclaiming “S-U-D-H-A-N-S-H-U” Shukla. Hmmmm. This is the 114th time these guys (Pragati Offset Pvt. Ltd.) have misspelled my name. I decide to avenge this slight. I walk up to the man, confide that I am the criminal whose “WANTED” poster he is carrying and in return I ask him to introduce himself, his post and his permanent account number. He says his name is “Jehangir”, then informs me that the rest of the questions do not apply to him. From then on I start calling him “Yehangir”. He seems unfazed, delighted actually. He thinks it is a very “cool” twist to his name. I can imagine him standing at a corner “chai-walla” and being introduced by his cronies to a newcomer as “Yehangir Jehangir, pathfinder & light bearer of Pragati Offset Pvt. Ltd.” We move on to concretize our friendship by having breakfast together at “KAMAT Hotel” The breakfast consisted of 3 idlis, 1 wada, 3 cups of sambhar, 2 cups of coconut chutney, 2 cups of garlic chutney, 1 tea, 1 coffee & 1 visit to the loo (mine). And finally I am deposited by him at the offices of Messrs. Pragati Offset Pvt. Ltd. I spend three and a half hours “working” and then am free to run amok in HYDERABAD.

CHAR MINAR:
Hail a rickshaw and divert it to “Char Minar”. Am a little disappointed by the structure. Photographs paint a very flattering picture of the monument. Anyway, I find my way up and into the monument. The guards there are very interested in why I am sitting on top of CHAR MINAR and scribbling in a book when I can behave like a normal visitor and write on the walls. I tell the interviewer that it’s not my kind of literature. It’s pretty emotional I tell him. The guard gives me a look he usually reserves for “out of town-ers” and correctly informs me that I am from BOMBAY. I smile my assertion and he smiles back. I smile some more (it’s OK….it’s 12.30 now). Emboldened, he confesses that he too is originally from the BOMBAY. From then on I am treated like a king by Mr.Pratap Singh and his guardian brothers. They shoo away anybody who surrounds me threatening to give a few pointers on creative writing or the kids who come pointing at my book attracted by the “JETIX”, “DISNEY” and “POWER RANGERS” images on it. But within half an hour it becomes pretty much like a circus, so the star performer decides to leave and go have some Biryani & Kebabs.

I get down the pipe I came up through. I hold on to the walls for dear life. People in front of me do the same. But the moron behind me decides I am a better support incase he falls. So after holding on to the ultra clean walls he goes on to wipe it clean on my white shirt. I come out looking like a poor, harassed human coming out of a Delhi Transport Corporation bus. Never mind I tell myself. Hail another rickshaw and ask the guy to take me to a Biryani place.

SALAR JUNG Museum:
After lunch I decide I need some history lessons. So “SALAR JUNG” Museum is my destination. Named after “Salar Jung III” the place is beautiful. Portraits of all the Hyderabadi Nizams, an English text book belonging to SALAR JUNG III himself to an ivory horse carriage are just a few things on display. 3 things that caught my attention and my fancy are:

1. An 11th century wood sculpture depicting Radha&Krishna on a swing under a tree.

2. The nizams clay fighters who had unique features of the real soldiers belonging to his personal troop.

3. An Italian sculpture called “Veiled Rebecca” by G.B.Benzoni made in 1876.

I waited for a few minutes (longer) in front of Ms.Rebecca, waiting for her to unveil herself, but being the snob that she is she did not oblige. So I took myself somewhere else. But frankly speaking she was beautiful…BEAUTIFUL…very lifelike.Besides the museum had the usual exhibits: furniture, weapons of war, textile, cutlery (sic), paintings etc.

The NIZAMS Jewellery:
I walked out of the Museum and visited the “Nizams Jewellery” exhibition. I was plain lucky to catch it in Hyderabad. It is usually displayed in Delhi. Mannn!!! Those jewels and the jewellery are so amaaazzzzziiinngggg! The best by a long way was the “Imperial (Jacob) Diamond”. This huge stone, 118 carats (I think, when uncut 300+ carats). Besides I read the entire history of all the Hyderabadi Nizams and forgot it the moment I stepped out of the building. One thing that I remember though is the amount of money the Indian Central Government paid the Nizam for the entire collection of 173 pieces. A whopping, STAGGERING 250 crores. Whoa!!! was my reaction and they say it was undervalued. OK!!! If u insist! Enough, I say, I am getting out of this place.

GOLCONDA FORT:
Outside one more rickshaw is hailed, and I find myself being driven to the “Golconda Fort”. Reach the place after traveling for half an hour. It’s around 6 in the evening and the sun is about to set. The whole place is glowing in the twilight. I decide I will go around the place on my own. But ofcourse that is a wrong decision, so I have to come groveling back to the “guide” who I asked to bugger off fifteen minutes ago. He is gracious enough to show me around the place. In the entire fort, the most interesting place is a passage where even the slightest of sound is amplified so Mr. King sitting in his room can hear who is coming into his concubines chambers and also so he can eavesdrop on anybody bitching about him. Weirdo!

ADIOS:
So that was the last place I saw in HYDERABAD. I am told that there is much more to be seen. True, but I had only a few hours in the city and I realized that the best thing to do was to be a proper tourist and let the locals guide you around. This way I was able to meet quite a few interesting/weird people, not to mention the other “out of town”ers who want to know where you are from and then want to speak to you in the MARATHI (in my case) just to form a connection.