PK : a review


I went to watch PK midst all the hoopla surrounding it.This is what i feel about the movie. PK is not a great film. It’s far from it .And in an effort to question certain beliefs it accidentally reinforces them. At least some of them. Like Hindus are largely superstitious. And Muslims are largely violent and resort to aggression and acts of terrorism.
PK is loud and enforcing in its conveyance of message which ironically gets lost in the second half. PK is uncannily similar to the Indian cricket team. It has a promising start but drags toward the end and has Anushka Sharma in it. But PK is a great leap forward from the kind of low-brow, pedestrian movies that we have been subjected to in the recent years. PK raises questions .Where in lies the problem.PK questions the hypocrisy of faith, the ludicrousness of customs and the blind faith we have in them. And in the process draws the ire of various Hindu fundamentalist groups .Which is Okay in a way. What’s not okay is so many of us are in agreement with them

Because religion in no more about finding God. Religion is about identity and ego. Religion is about exercising superiority. Amidst these, reason and logic are conveniently ignored.
PK comes at a very crucial time. At a time when we are dodging between compassion and jingoism, when the lines between love and love jihad have been blurred, homecoming and ghar vapsi are being equated and when community and communal-ism can barely be differentiated. We are angry and afraid, Confused and aggravated, Patriotic and zealots, ignited and torn apart.
Call a Muslim and tell him not allowing women inside mosques is gross segregation and denigration and be ready to bear his brunt. Tell a Christian that the Pope had no right to go to Africa, a continent with the highest AIDS prevalence rate and tell them not to use condoms as it goes against the doctrines of Christianity and all hell breaks loose. Tell a Hindu that a woman’s virginity is not reflective of her character and prepare you to be ostracized. We are taught to be apologetic always more so to other religions than ours lest be labeled a fanatic.
We are afraid to ask questions as it might offend someone’s religious sentiments. The very sentiments that prevented a girl band from realizing their dreams (Read Pragash) because Allah doesn’t like girls performing in public, The very sentiments which drove a painter out of this country (Read M F Hussain) because to paint deities on canvas is the sole proprietary of the people of the same religion, The very sentiments due to which a lady lost her life because abortion is not honorable per Christianity

Questioning the status Quo is a basic human trait, a requirement for evolution. Religion works by denying you that basic human tenet.
Do not question. Do not critique .Obey and follow.

You create rules and regulations.You create an establishment based on trepidation, intimidation and fear.There is reward for compliance .There is no room for free thought.Carrot and stick rule.Sex is controlled through morality .Sex is tagged and measured.Circumcisions and purity rings.This is how slaves are conditioned.This is how religion is propagated.

All religions are flawed, contrived by flawed men like us and we have been following their rules, their idea of morality their definition of right and wrong. What I was born with doesn’t define me .My religion is not a reflection of my personality. So why should I be so proud of it.

The only morality that matters is compassion.The only culture worth imbibing is restraint.If our religion failed to teach us that, it doesn’t really matter whatever else it has to offer.

PK is not a very brave movie. It doesn’t ask these difficult questions. It’s appeasing even in its condemnation. And yet it is being panned down by various Hindu groups.

PK should be criticized .But because it’s not a very good film and not because it raises questions we are not very comfortable with.


Quarter Life Crisis



I celebrated my 25th birthday recently. Apart from the trauma of having to throw parties and sponsoring overpriced beer to friends that they wouldn’t otherwise have with their own money, for an event which increasingly seems insignificant each passing year, I had to bear the ordeal of inadvertently reflecting back upon all the years leading up to this day .And strictly in terms of purpose and sense of achievement so far it has been like watching a J P Dutta movie – you are halfway through it and its still painfully uninteresting.


When you are in your teens around 12 , 13 years old, you can be anything.- Actor, Rock God , Tap dancer, rodeo clown, Kurt Fucking Cobain. But then the 12 year old grows up and years of non-accomplishment and you’d be like, What Fight club quote defines you the best. The cute girl you liked back in the day is now in all probability married and has gained a few kilos and is cute no more. Everyone you know is in the exact same place you are. Or better. You don’t feel special anymore. Life has become predictable. And boring.

On many an occasion, I was asked  “where do you see yourself ten years down the line” and I could write an essay on it .But today, I wouldn’t know. I kind of see myself in a 1 bhk paying off installments for the rest of my life for the 1 bhk. All that is left to do is Suck up to the guy above you to get that H1-B stamped so that you can be dispatched to the  US to suck up to a white guy above you.

I see Nick D Aloisio become a self-made millionaire at the age of 15,I see Lorde winning Grammys at the age of 17,Milos Raonic defeating Federer at 23 while I still need a PAN Card to prove my existence.


I have been left in a spot like many others my age.And this what I have seen people doing to get out of the spot.This is why  i think all those ideas are stupid.


Backpacking thru Ladakh – You are inspired by movies like Into the wild and Zindagi milegi naa dobara and you decide to take that  road trip to find yourself.So, you take a corporate marketed trip to Ladakh. A bunch of duffers taking selfies against the dusty roads against bald mountains should  be  good enough reason for China to not show interest in this region ever again.I mean I am all for adventure tourism, but if I decide to spend 20k on a trip, the least I expect is a place to take a dump in private and a journey that doesn’t end with me suffering from spondylitis .And biking through dusty roads in temp below 10 degrees among celibate monks in controversial border issues doesn’t make sense.


Back to school- what I have observed is how Salman Khan seems to run down yet another homeless man every time an Indian is dispatched to pursue his Masters in the States. Because as if getting a degree from a mediocre institute and getting menial job wasn’t enough, getting a Masters from a random mediocre institute in USA to end up in another menial job will do the trick. But Hell, Dowry quadruples.

So why Masters?? Because no matter how pathetic your GRE score is, there will be at least 2 American universities welcoming you with open arms. In short your biological Father wouldn’t have made you feel that special.

Because studying with dumb white kids sounds more elitist than studying among dumb brown kids.

Because when you come back home on vacation you end all your sentences with “While I was in America” and annoy people.


When you end up in the college you realize that it’s not exactly how you imagined it would be.The jobs have dried up there and the same job you applied post Masters is being outsourced to some south Asian country. Americans don’t love you as you steal their jobs and the chances of you being molested at the Airport, racially abused, mugged or beaten up have increased 10 times from  the moment you started reading this piece.You have an education loan and unless your Dad is filthy rich, will take 3 generations to pay off.You better hope that dowry comes in handy.

Photography – DSLRs sold more than condoms past few years.That’s because for an average Indian  guy sex is like passing of the Haley’s comet , happens once in a long time and is over quickly and also because every other dude here sees a Farhan Querishi in himself.So photography seems like a viable option to compensate for  a dismal sex life, manhood and life in general.

So , you roam around taking pictures of trees, squirrels, poor people to discover the artist in you.Before you realize you end up taking pictures of relatives at marriages ,girl who friendzoned you for her new profile pic and getting “zarra ek aur photo,side waale angle se”” requests.


MBA – Plan seems cut out for like 80% of the people –  study engineering- regret your decision – Believe getting a job will turn things around – Get a job in IT(as they are the only people who have jobs to offer even in this economy- take that job in IT – regret your decision – Time to prove yourself – Start prepping up for CAT – Have to choose between TIME  and BYJU’s – Chose Time – Regret your decision  – Get a so so  CAT scores – End up in a so so MBA college because hell!!, better than IT – Regret your decision.

Fall in love– When you were in school you found girls gross and irritating.When you moved to high school, hormones kicked in and suddenly girls were gross no more .But then you had to fulfill your parents ambition of making their neighbors and friends feel small and petty by topping the board exams.So, you studied. During your undergrad years, you were scrawny, broke and in all probability picked dirt from your nose. Girls don’t go out with guys who are broke. But now you have a job and nothing better to do. Hence, you decide to pursue something you wanted to do for all these years.

So, you hit on anything that moves. And has boobs.

The problem – You are 25.Any girl your age is either married or committed or expecting.And the girls that are still single are single for a reason. And there’s also a reason why you are still single. So, drop the idea dude.


PS 3 and porn – PS and porn are probably the only two passions that don’t run out with age.While the former costs practically six months of your salary the later is virtually free.Both are equally satisfying in their own ways.

It’s tough turning 25.We have no motivation, no role roles.We feel lost .But then , its ok to feel lost, its ok to lose way.Whats not ok is to lose hope.Because, as per a Roman saying”This too shall pass”

“Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted” – Lohn Lennon




Analyzing My Break Up


I just broke up with a girl. Personally, I believe it has to be on Cosmopolitan’s list of top 10 shittiest ways to start a new year.

I have been feeling low lately because of the split and my face gives the vibe that i just discovered I have Gonorrhea. Everyone in my office is worried and keeps asking me what’s wrong. It’s not like any one gives much of a damn but when you start resembling a character from a B – grade Zombie flick, not talking ,not listening, not showing interest in random useless conversations mostly involving girls it does freak people out. Nobody wants to share space with Helen Keller. I have been trying to avoid people and keep to myself because when shit goes wrong the last thing you want is people poking their subway sausage size noses into your personal space and give you advice on how to move on and all. Don’t need self professed Deepak Chopras and Oprahs .

The fact that my social circle is as big as that of an average Afghani woman and my interpersonal skills are worse than that of an 8 year old autistic kid, I am surprised I even managed to land myself in a relationship. But then, I did. Given my awkwardness at interacting with people it only makes sense that she was the one who made the first move. When a girl shows interest in you, your love compass starts to analyze the signals and it keeps swinging between ‘she is just being friendly and you don’t want to end up like Phaneesh Murthy‘ to ‘She’s got the hots for you‘. But then the signals became clearer. When a girl asks you out for dinner and pings you 187 fucking times a day,every day it has to mean something. So we had this first date which was basically a sex comedy in a single screen being surrounded by shady characters from the neighborhood. So right then we had this “who wears the pants in the house moment” as I was freaking out while she was laughing away to the sexual innuendos on screen. What followed was a late night stroll in front of her house ice creams in hands. It felt like a page out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, to be turned later into an equally cheesy movie .Frankly I would have felt the same if I was munching Nutritive diabetes biscuits then.. I was Jack and she was Rose sailing in your love boat.But then,bloody Titanic sunk. Everything we shared (mostly Platonic) then and every other day after that day till we broke up felt so real, so intimate that I thought we were in for the long haul

She turned out to be as fake as Priyanka Chopra’s nose.

I broke up. Which is more like saying she dumped my ass leaving me feeling as violated as the guy who just had a colonoscopy done on him. You know that age old adage that you treat a girl nicely and she comes back and kicks you right in your balls.I kind of went through a practical demonstration of that. Just kidding .I didn’t cry. When you are sharing an apartment with 5 dudes you can’t afford to.

When you are nearing 25 you don’t flirt you fall in love .Or at least you try to. Because you realize if this is probably your last shot at a meaningful relationship before being forcibly hurled by your parents to marry some stranger, the only insight into her life being she can cook bhindi ki sabji pretty well.(conveyed by her mom to your mom. Also that her dad will gift you a Hero Passion pro – my official dowry value.).It’s not easy to fall in love in this part of the world. Our society is marred by religious, caste, linguistic divide, and an archaic and un-pragmatic system of arranged marriage to fuel false parental ego.

It’s difficult even more if you are a lower middle kid whose Dad has a salaried account; And when your dad, mom, uncles, aunties, long lost cousins, neighbors, Doodh wallah all expect your single purpose of existence to be to top school, college, tuition and any exam you sit for . The pocket money you receive in your school and college life is basically lunch money. So, between love and food I chose not to stay hungry. My social life mostly spanned between physics, chemistry and maths tuition. The point being its difficult to establish a relationship with the opposite sex even a friendly one let alone romantic because they expect you to be confined within your cocoon – resulting increasing disparities between both the sexes, and gender based atrocities.

Because when a guy sees a girl in our society he doesn’t see a friend, a lover or an acquaintance he once met .All he sees is cunts and tits. Because every social contact between a guy and a girl is judged and opined upon here, leaving very little for an average guy to reach out and communicate with the other gender, have a heterogeneous social purlieu.

And if you do manage to transcend that and do manage to find someone you think is the one , you realize then how little of character , commitment and love is left in people these days.

I did propose her eventually(after months of whatsApp ,chats and pictures sharing)which basically constituted a 3 page Love letter mostly written in Shakespearean English aimed to impress. I quoted Pablo Neruda later realizing the girl’s sense of poetry never went beyond Twinkle Twinkle little stars. I don’t really know how much of that shit permeated her brain(which by the way is as empty as theaters during a Ram Gopal Varma movie) but “ I love you” generally does make sense even to the stupidest of the lot. 

Word of advice – never date anyone in your social milieu. Because when the eventual break up does take place it becomes really awkward knowing you will keep running into your ex-flame time and again , that you have to be in the same room with her a lot of times , will have to tolerate her presence. When something like this happens there’s 3 ways you can tackle it,or better those were the 3 ways I came up with in my case.

1)take a print out of all the intimate whatsapp conversations you had with her and mail it to all the common friends and end it up with the line “guess who was sucking up to the other person,definitely not me.”

I didn’t do it because of my new-found respect towards women and the idea of showing due respect and upholding the dignity of the opposite sex no matter how shallow and vain the given individual is. Also ,because the idea is plain creepy.

2) Choose a hot girl and make out with her in front of your Ex.

Now that’s not gonna happen in my case because I am generally surrounded middle-aged Tamilian women most of who are on their way to a second pregnancy. Also if I did manage to find a hot chick what are the odds of me making out with her – somewhere between discovering life on Mars to finding out Big Foot is real.

3).Try avoiding the person as much as you can ,pretend she doesn’t exist, bail out on as many social gatherings involving her as you possibly can,delete all her contact info, become a recluse until everyone gets bored and moves on.

I am doing moderately well on option-3 Given how I am an expert at being a social creep. I would have done better if others wouldn’t make it their business to meddle with my life. So , this post in a way is my way of saying this is what happened , now fuck off.

Its really painful after a break up but you just have to suck it up because sharing the pain makes it worse. You tell this to your friends and they all mean well and they basically want to say fucking move on, but depending upon the type of friend the message varies.

There are basically these many types of friends :-

1.the Cussing friend – She ditched you for nothing. Fucking skank.

2.The non cussing friend – She ditched you for nothing. What kind of a shallow ,heartless person does that.(same as the cussing friend but doesn’t have the balls to use the C**** and S*** words.)

3.The been there ,done that friend – my 3rd girlfriend did the same to me. Hooked up with a hotter girl within 2 months.(he doesn’t really give a shit about me. He is just trying to say he is a player.)

4. The College ka gunda friend abe aise kaise dump kar diya.Saali ko uthwaa lenge(He can’t do squat about anything. He is just reminiscing his college days ,where he used to scare junior girls to say yes to his proposals during fresher parties and rag freshly out of home douchebags).

5. The friend who has girlfriend – Not all girls are like that .Many girls respect the value of a relationship.(Basically trying to say the girl he is with has greater moral integrity than the one I was with and hoping he doesn’t end up the way I did.)

6. The friend who never had a girlfriend– “abe tune ladki pataayi. Yahan pe toh haath me leke pade hain”

7.The sympathetic friend – First Love??” Pehli baar sabkaa chutiyaa kat taa hai”.Chill dude.You deserve way better than her.

8.The judgmental friend – “Laundiyaa ne chhod diya. Chutiye.”

9.Marwari Friend –” abe uspe zyaada kharchaa toh nahi kiya naa tune…”

10. The Funny Friend – She dumped you for another guy and she has an elaborate history of doing that. Well then, she must be a whore-ible person.

11. Chetan Bhagat quoting friend – is that all your life is about? For your lover to validate you? Instead why not focus on yourself – working on your goals, learning something, being a more positive person and helping others. That will boost your self esteem far more than any lover would. Next time that girl treats you badly , say thank you. Thank you for reminding me that I need to make myself the focus of my life, not you.(He is probably one of those thousand guys who borrows quotes from second grade authors and then shares them on Facebook.)

I don’t quite understand why she walked out on me. I am not self bragging, but I am one of the meekest persons out there. I treat everyone nicely especially girls who send me heart shaped smileys as good night messages and call me Darling time and again. The last time I was angry or violent was in 2010 when I smashed my own hand into the wall after Louis Suarez blocked that sure goal by Dominic Adiyiah with his hand causing Ghana to bow out of the WC.I am not very romantic but I know how to do my bit to impress girls. At any point in time my choice of a Christmas movie would be Die Hard and not 10 things I hate about you.But I did try to impress the lady by suggesting overpriced Italian restaurants for dates,whose menu you can barely understand and where all the dishes irrespective of their names taste more or less like pasta. Also, I once did try to blow her mind away through flash file presentations on windows live movie maker .That ,i now remember, is the day she broke up with me. I changed my OS to Linux after that.I also spent months to learn her tongue and frankly that is the only positive outcome of this fall out.I was heart broken and all but now I can proficiently bargain with local potato vendors “ Swalpa Kammi Madkoli”.

MY EX :-

By way of appearance if I had to rate her out of 10 then it would be a dig at my own sense of judgment. Several cosmetic changes has brought about a passable improvement over her previous self. Its hard to compare her with any human being but if you are a Harry Potter fan , then one word – Dementors. She will be cosy and friendly and then slowly suck the living soul out of you. There are people you hate, then there are girls your mom warned you about ,then there are tramps, then there’s people you wish were never born,then there’s Ishant Sharma and then there’s my Ex.

Turns out she is pretty secular when it comes to sharing her affection. So, she goes to movie with Rajesh , eats cheese Dosa with Prasanth ,visits the newly opened Starbucks with Karthik and has dinner at MTR ,Jayanagar with Azeem .You genuinely like a person and then you realize your place in her life is as a CC to for all the messages she sends to random boys simultaneously.

My friend who knew her from before warned me about her. He said she is the Charles Shobhraj of Romance – Serial Offender. She chooses some dude, starts cozying up to him, messages him day and night and after spending some time with him ditches him. But I didn’t pay heed to any of those. I was in love and when you are in love you behave like a Dodo- a flightless bird ,intellectually challenged who failed to differentiate between its predators and friends and ultimately became extinct. I kind of met the same fate.

She, by her own admission, had a sleuth of boyfriends. I counted with her one day and the number went to 13 after which I went into sort of an anaphylactic shock and stopped counting. After knowing that she had so many affairs I was equal parts shocked and equal parts in awe. I mean you gotta give it to her, not many can attain that number. The point being she was in lot many relationships (way beyond the normal threshold) and most of her friend circle constituted boys. So, she always had someone to fall back upon. Come to think of it she has a more stable network than Google.

She broke up with me on a Friday night over the phone.My entire life spiraled from When Harry met Sally to 500 Days of Summer. A guy inside me told it’s time to start dusting off dirt from Jagjit Singh CDs. Jagjit Singh paved way to Dark side of the moon and porn. Because when nothing makes sense what does is Pink Floyd and Pink world.

So, after days of self loathing and self pity I was finally over my break up. Because I realized the person I was suffering for is not worth it. She never was.Every relationship commands certain amount of respect. When you give that relationship more than what is deserves you receive less than what you are worth. My only regret is I should have been the one dumping her ass instead. This is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.

Deep in inside your heart , you hope that there is some sort of a karmic retribution,that she will pay for what she did to me,that there is some sense of justice to this whole charade. But , that’s not gonna happen. Life is unfair. Shit happens. You have to take the shit, derive a life lesson or two out of the bloody thing and move on.

Days have gone back to being simpler now.Now the day’s biggest problem is finding a decent enough restaurant for lunch.Now there are new resolutionsand the acceptance of the fact that I am never gonna meet rather.I am focussding more on my career goals than spending half my nights replying whatsapp queries.I am writing a lot more now too. My pieces are still half baked stuff which friends and acquaintances on Facebook applaud as a customary obligation, but I am hopeful of churning out at least one decent literary piece before dying of cancer or something. This entire episode has made me appreciate the smaller things in life that we casually take for granted like those friendly banters,late night strolls and room fights with friends. It has also reinstated my faith in the “ Bros before Hoes” concept.

It still hope that she is the girl I thought she was when I liked her and not the Bitch she turned out to be.

“Now you are just somebody that i used to know “


Outside Alone

Bangalore M.G Road

It was a life long dream of mine to get out of the house .I had never left house before, never been in a hostel and the farthest I had ever been from my house till I finished my engineering was the nearby Indira Gandhi Park where I was once allowed to go on a picnic in std V after a lot of begging. My parents in that sense are the censored version of Taliban and a firm believer in limited rights to children below 18.

My pocket money was so little it would fit comfortably in the watch pocket of my jeans(Watch Pocket or the smallest pocket on the front right side of your jeans was so called as it was used in the 1800s by the cow boys to keep their watches. Levi’s renamed it as the condom pocket. I still call it the watch pocket though, coz I am an Indian teenager. I don’t know what sex is.)

My parents gave me just barely enough money because as per them , it would keep me away from bad habits and I would learn the value of money.I didn’t learn the value of money exactly but what I learnt right then was I was going to be broke , lonely and miserable for a really long time.

I still remember How I had to create a folder called study material in the C drive and stash all my porn there as my computer like our toilet was a shared facility. My parents used to verify my homework till I was in 10th, perform secret background checks on all my friends , never failed to attend parent teacher meeting , read my mails and SMSes, eavesdropped on my phone calls and all.

In short my parents did it even before snooping was cool in the United States.

If that was not enough I had this bandwagon of relatives who would make regular visits to our house like re-runs of Ekta kapoor’s soaps. And many of them would that one son or daughter to have made it to the IITs or the AIIMs or some eye gauging institute and then would begin the multi aspect comparision of him/her with me which would always without fail end up with my parents lecturing me how interest and hard work can take you to success and how I had neither.

Firstly , looking at my relatives I realized the problem of overpopulation in this country is actually alarming. Imagine being directly or indirectly related to some 40,000 odd people .And what’s scary is their abnormal interest in you. When you are a kid , they poke your cheeks and when u grow up they poke you with ghastly questions about your future , career , girlfriends. And almost all of those questions have rather depressing answers.Actually on hindsight , I think all those questions could then and even now be answered by one single word – NO.

No future , No Career , No Girlfriend.

So this constant regression and regular invasion of my privacy led me to closely identify myself with the war prisoners rotting in Guantanamo and even contemplated filing a petition or two on website actually has a petition for the rights of Tussock Moth Caterpillar, mine wouldn’t be the worst).

Hence, when I got the job and realized I was to be posted to Bangalore I felt like celebrating independence day all over again.My plans on reaching Bangalore were :-

a)- Rent an apartment
b) – Have a girlfriend
c) – Party Hard

It didn’t pan out that way. Not by a long shot. Deposits for apartments in Bangalore range between 1 to 1.5 lakhs which after removing housing allowance, provident fund , medical insurance and food coupons is how much I make in a year. I work in a support project which means most of my colleagues are males in their mid 40s with a thick waistline and thin hair line. The Last time I saw a girl was 3 months back in front of a public ladies toilet , which FYI for personal safety is not the place to check out girls. Restaurant bills are so costly you start appreciating the value of Fasting more and more.

Living away from family requires balls of steel. Especially when , all this while you had your underwear washed by the neighborhood Shanta bai and your food served right at your oral orifice.The whole idea of living alone outside , independently taking control of your own life , taking your decisions and all has so many holes it closely resembles Om Puri’s nose.

It’s like I was rudely awakened from a long run of infantilisation and pushed suddenly into adulthood.You were spoonfed for so long and now you have to go search for your own spoonAll of a sudden those nagging things about family don’t seem to bother you. You actually miss them. The guy who said there is no place like home wasn’t high. He made fucking sense. It feels lonely in here .kind of terrifying too.When you close your eyes at nite those images of the past do a flash back like a Breaking Bad season reminder.there is a certain void that remains and always it will for there’s no place like home and you are too far from home.

So , as I said like three times already , no place like home. The only thing marginally close to home is sorority houses with quarterly wet t-shirt contests.(which unfortunately unlike Starbucks, KFC and obesity haven’t forayed into India yet)


Open Letter to Alexandra Wallace

Ladies and Gentlemen,Friends and boyfriends of my crushes and girls who I never had a shot at,watch the video to fully comprehend what follows.

Dear Alexandra Wallace,

Even though this reply is too late and you might have moved on, become a better person or got run down by a truck for that matters, I think it is imperative for me to post one as a reaction to yours .And also because I had always wanted to write an open letter because you are never really a blogger if you haven’t written an open letter.

So, here it is.

This video of yours has deeply hurt the feelings of every brown man out there. I don’t know what is it with you white folks that you think only people with small eyes, short height and small dicks are Asians. We are brown, have bigger eyes, average sized dicks and approximately 40% of us manage to get past 5 feet 5 inches and we are still Asians.

I know you put in a lot of effort while making this video and had to mug up a few fancy words to impressBut seriously, who the fuck has an epiphany while going through Political Science books. It’s like masturbating to Gay Porn.(a strictly heterosexual joke.FYI – firm believer in Fag rights)

And how the fuck did you get into UCLA. You, for one, have seriously shaken my faith in ivy league colleges. I had great expectations from myself to end up in some fancy college not because I saw in me some top shot engineer or manager but because my parents slapped and kicked me through my school and later college years in vain so that I would end up as a carbon copy of one of my cousins who went to one of those top rung colleges. He belonged to that category of kids who spent greater part of their childhood in the company of R .S Agarwal and R.D Sharma. If you didn’t hear of these two gentlemen until you were 18, then you had a happy childhood. If you did , you are either in an IIT or are dead post successful suicide because of not getting into one.

The Asians might have names that might sound like two neighborhood aunties throwing utensils at each other, but their names have deeper meanings and have some level of relative uniqueness.However,for a country that uses English as it’s first language, you guys have a proper noun vocabulary of,like what,100. It’s like every third guy is Tom.
And the fact that you see these hoards of Asian people around your apartment living with their Moms and Dads and Grandpas and Grandmas and cousins they bring over is because they, or shall I say we, still love our parents more than our pet dog, and while we might have imbibed the American way of life, capitalism, rap music and skinny jeans, we are yet to come to terms with sending our elderly to foster homes.So , everytime we get to go to the States or any other country for that matters, we are inclined to bring with us our Moms and Dads and Grandpas and Grandmas and cousins we didn’t know existed , showering us with all their love the moment they realise we have a green card.

I have composed this piece from a very unbiased point of view and in spite of the fact that I have had bad experience with the Chinese. I am a victim of Chinese handsets(WhiteCherry-they said it was like Blackberry but cheaper. It actually was,but only for four months) and Chinese Trimmers.Also, fellow co-workers of Chinese origin in my team have made it a point to make my life hell.But I feel, being an asshole is something you can’t pin down on any caste, color, race or religion.

What’s offensive is not that your v-log is racist as we are all racists to varying degrees and people have used racism, discrimination, segregation and profiling and made a career out of it- went on to become Presidents, religious Leaders ,Pope or Russel Peters. What’s offensive about your rant is it’s boring and flat.It isn’t funny, it has no juice and quite frankly it sucks Superman’s balls(because they are balls of steel;because he is Man of Steel;Got the joke, No?)

Besides, you are blonde. And you made this video.You are not helping the stereotype.

In all honesty,with a web cam and an internet connection you can make far more interesting things.

Between Chicken Tikka and Idli Dosa!!!!!




We are all proud of the diversity we possess, the multiplicity we project, our 18 official languages, 3000 dialects, 7 major religions and butt load of other shit. I mean sure as hell does sound good to the ears but as I mentioned earlier, this national feature of ours is a major practical fuck up. It is hard to be infatuated to this multicultural, multilingual, multiethnic feature of our society because in all totality, it is actually much shallower than what is projected and also because being proud of the same shit for 66 years is kind of a drag. I mean, 650 million people in this country go hungry daily, about 10 million children have no education, no future and we have been for quite some time now battling, poverty, inflation, insurgency and congress. But what the hell, we have 1618 different languages and that’s what makes us superior to others. Because a country’s overall success  as a nation is dependent on people talking the same shit in 1618 different tongues. Because countries like South Korea with a GDP of 8.7% and a per capita income of $ 20,000 are actually cock sucking faggots because they have only one official language. Because without the lengthy statistics of our country mentioned above we will have nothing to share on Facebook on 15th of august and 26th of January and feel good about our wretched lives .

Point being our sense of pride is way misplaced and this multi ethnic thing looks good only on Mile sur mera tumhaara video and Incredible India ads.In practice, it blows. This I realized while travelling in trains. I took to trains not because I wanted to explore the pan Indian experience, travelling with people from various sections of society but because pay in IT sucks, and every time I book plane tickets it’s like financing Mallya’s IPL team with practically half my salary .

Anyhoo, travelling in train back and forth between your native and work city makes you feel like an African being shipped to America  into slavery during pre-civil war era .Apart from that train forces you to endure people from different demographics for 33 whole hours with no exits.This torture gave me a new insight  into the  ethnicities  and their feelings towards each other. A great divide that  breaks  our country into two 2 distinct  demographics which are at a stone’s throw away from doing a Godhra on each other also leading to a list of stereotyping and preconceived notions so lengthy  that it makes R R Martin’s novels  look like a travel brochure.

H0w North India  views  South India


  • Apudi pode and Nakka mukka
  • Absolute disregards for beloved language Hindi
  • Unofficial franchisee of vitamin C – rasam, sambhar ,chutni ,idli
  • Weird fetish for lungi ,idli and bulky, fat women
  • South Indian actors who look like long lost cousins of Rami Reddy, but somehow still have a bigger fan following than Tom cruise and Brad Pitt put together.
  • Kids  who start who start slogging  for IIT,15 hours a day,  15 minutes after hitting puberty. Kids in other parts of the country under similar post puberty crisis slog 15 hours a day clearing levels of Halo 4.
  • Names more challenging than Greece’s current economy .

A typical south Indian name =Rakesh Reddy Peddareddygari.

On a scale of 1 to 5 for measuring the complexity of names, with 5 being the most complicated

and 1 being the least, south Indian names get 10.

South Indian names like P.V Satish Kumar, T.V Krishnamurthy have their entire postal address            attached to it.  Researchers believe that in years to come south Indian dudes will include their finger print info ,semen sample and DNA report for better identification.

  • South Indian movies- South Indian movies have consistently, persistently and ceremoniously defied newton’s laws of motion , Kepler’s  gravitational theory ,Pauli’s exclusion theory ,Heisenberg’ s uncertainty principle and …..well,basic common sense.

Every time a south Indian actor adjusts his goggles while the goons he beat up are still hovering in air who fall down on earth only after our hero has folded up his sleeves, delivered his cheesy one liner and danced his way through an entire song with 200 odd background dancers, the soul of Sir Isaac Newton, the dude who updated the world about gravity, cries a little.

  • Remain in a state of constant cluelessness. And are as humorous as the climax of Requiem for a dream.  Take more time to get a joke than a pentium2 system takes to boot up  and when provide their best laugh the length of one corner from one corner of the lip to the other measures 2mm . Consider activities like hangouts and parties  a crime of biblical proportions and their idea of entertainment swings between Carnatic music and Rajnikant movies.

How South India views North India

  • Region to the north of the Vindhyas or as per the south Indian vernacular, regionfrom where people stop having idli for breakfast.
  • Populated by people  who prefer ending sentences with unholy references to some one’s mother or sister
  • Land of Roadie rejects. Reliable sources reveal that every useless whack, with the IQ level of a Japanese orangutan, whose only aspiration in life is to win some B grade MTV reality show hails from the region bounded by  Ghaziabad and Chandigarh.
  • Mass prevalence of BBB syndrome. BBB  =  Bakchodh  By Birth. Known for talking a lot shit with no coherence to the surrounding environment.


  • A girl in north India is like a general candidate in IIT JEE exam. Probability of getting fucked pretty high



  • Land of inspiration for Ekta Kapoor serials- Legend has it that every  over  the top ,overtly melodramatic, half baked soap opera  made in India has always been about  some Khanna ,Chopra  or Sharma family and never about  any Iyenger, Ramalingam or Reddy family. To be Fair   South Indians are also given screenspace, but mostly appear as  a white lungi clad  Anna,  mainly for comic relief. Also worth mentioning is the fact the amount of leg these anna s show through their lungi is more than any girl has ever been allowed in any CBFC certified movie.


  • Major customer base of Aastha and Sanskar TV. It’s not the south Indians aren’t into the religious charade; it’s just that these channels are in Hindi. And besides, the south Indian babas appear more in MMSes   and less on TV.
  • Land of Dandies and Dandizettes: North Indian folks may or may not have imbibed the western line of thinking and intellect but   are well adept when it comes to western style of living.So, may not be familiar with Pasteur, Da Vinci and Louvre but are well aware of Prada, The Versace and Loreal. Primary life goals  include eating ,sleeping ,waking up , visiting parlor ,shaving their legs(Both  males and females ,yes) ,Visiting Gym, groping girls in overcrowded buses(applied only for males), boasting of about their imported   Italian bikini and New Pajero bought from Daddiji’s credit card (females and males respectively), pub-disco-daaru ,Launde baaji- Laundiyaa baaji …………….Repeat.
  • Also known for proposing random girls on Facebook in bad English and grammar as broke  as a   TCS  employee.

I am from a state which is not so much a victim of ethnic profiling as is of mass amnesia about us.People  from  all over the country find it hard to place us geographically. Odisha  is less of a state in itself and more  of south Bengal.And  we get used to hearing arguments  as  abe  oriya bangaali sab ek hi toh hain  and Tumhaari language kya hai – odishi.

We find it hard to  decide as to whether to pity them for their ignorance or kick their balls .We prefer the latter.

To the brain dead, sagging pair of balls,an Odiya and a Bengali are as distinguished from each other as Saina’s and Sania’s  career graphs.

And asking an odiya if he speaks odishi is like asking a Russian if he can talk ballet.

I am from a part of the country which was never actually stereotyped probably because nobody knows let’s say anything about it .Which is primarily because our community was never explored or popularized by any Bollywood movie, any soap opera , any sleazy indipop album, telefilm, documentary, mockumentary ,washing powder ad ,……well ,you get the point.

Add to that we are like a porn film CD found  by the school headmaster. No one’s willing to claim ownership.

we don’t belong to either north or south.the north Indians don’t consider us to be north indian’s  because you not a northie if  you are not fair , if you don’t like Honey Singh  and if you  have never said “ Arre darling aaj badi maal lag rahi ho” to a girl.

The south Indians think we are north Indians  because according to them you are one if you can’t tell the difference between 18 different types of Rasam, you   are not a fan of Chiranjeevi ,Nagarjuna or Mamoothy, if you don’t have a moustache and above all if you can speak hindi properly.

Over all we are the no man’s land of the great north south divide equally culpable of the mess created and willing participants of this culture of intolerance and typecasting.

This unity in diversity theory of ours has more holes than in Om Puri’s nose. We might be living with people from different cultural backgrounds, practicing different religions, speaking different tongues .having different sexual orientation. But, we are not proud of it, we are not enjoying it. Merely tolerating it.

We are the same country that considers every Bihari a criminal,every Punjabi an idiot, every Nepali a watchman, and every north east girl a parlorwaali or a call girl.

We look at each other with patronizing eyes  and  paint each other in broad brushstrokes  to be  addressed in crude humor or venomous  loathe.


We are too much in love with the hatred we have for each other.

Hence, the question worth asking is do we deserve to be proud of the things we take pride in.


My friends say after writing this piece I have reduced my life line to ,may be, tomorrow .Because I live in south India and most of my friends  are a good mix of north Indians and  south Indians or after  the publishing of this article former friends and persecutors.I write this article with great risk to life and property(Not much in terms of property ,but still)

This article aims at exploring the bias that exists in our society without intending to hurt anyone’s feelings .

But, inspite of detailed disclaimers as such i manage to piss off  more people  than Innocence of muslims  did.

That night at Freedom Park


I didn’t initially want to write on this issue. Because every line I would pen down would be a cliché; Every statistic mentioned, every opinion formed would be something read, heard and written a million times over, presented with just different vocabulary. I didn’t want to join the bandwagon of writers ,bloggers, concerned citizens   ,intra and extra institutional  intellectuals voicing concern over this heinous  crime, the duality of morality in this society, advocating women rights and dignity when they were too busy minding their own business not so long ago. But then, after that night I thought may be, I should.

I wanted a medium for excretion of my own feelings over this and even though candle light protests reek of tokenism, that was the least, and under the circumstances, the most I could do. So, I browsed through Facebook for pages related to the cause. There were pages  where discussion was more focused on  the dress code and which mall would be the ideal place for protest which made me think updating Facebook statuses and generating a few likes was more pragmatic an approach than joining such protests. It’s amazing how hard it is to shrug off hypocrisy even in times of great crises or through the noblest of causes. Then, I stumbled upon this event to be organized at Freedom park which I thought would be a reasonable enough place to express the angst.

Now, Bangalore is no Delhi. There weren’t thousands of people battling lathis, tear gas shells, water cannons, Delhi’s temperatures, Police brutality and political ball games – just a bunch of confused youth who were struggling to decide where to start the protest from.

What could have caused this uproar? May be the constant helplessness of not being able to do anything, guilt tripping on the silence or participation on abuse of women, or the threshold of tolerance that just broke.

Whatever it was, it was building. That evening the area bounded by the highway and the tall walls of prison turned park was slowly but steadily filling up with people belonging to disparate groups-college students, IT professionals, 60 year old ladies and 13 year old girls.

There were speeches made, issues debated in what was a leaderless protest. Nobody had a representative, nobody required one. Tried to find superficiality in this movement but I couldn’t. People weren’t there for the camera, for the press or to bolster private interests. They were there because they gave a damn.

There were slogans that reverberated through the cold gusty winds of Bangalore, banners that were raised higher than what seemed like the tallest of the buildings. There were girls who shared their personal experiences ,men  who were tired of being viewed as potential rapists, mothers who cried at the state of this society. There  was  discussion on the need to change the -pre historic  mindset that pervades one and all in the name of culture, customs and tradition. There were talks on the Criminal law Amendment  bill and the  need to table it on the parliament. There were petitions filed for justice to the victim and stringent laws on woman abuse to be sent to the President for approval

“There are 370 rapists in the parliament  and assemblies today.And you expect us to have Faith in a system like this to create laws  and protect our women”– said one.

“There have been millions of fast track courts for millions of such cases-like the one in Mumbai molestation case ,where two boys were killed trying to protect their female friends.One year has passed and whats the development? – Zero  “echoed another.

There were slogans like “ who sarkar nikkammi hai, Soniya jiski Mummy hai”  and “ Sheila kit oh Jawani hai,Hamari toh badnaami hai”  that made my lips widen in spite of the gravity of the situation.

The contents of the speeches were familiar, but  the tone was genuine. Nobody understood a word when that women broke into tears while expressing herself in Kannada, but her despair reached the hearts of one and all.Those tears were real,the pain in the voices of people present there was real-far more real than the camera ready tears of Sheila Dixit,the concerned   faces of the TRP driven Media representatives the content in the statements of the dysfunctional bureaucratic officials,aloof  government and manipulative opposition. it’s easy to be cynical about these protests.It’s easy to say that  the people who gathered  were  mostly students who had mugged their way through NCERT books and IT  professional  who spent most of their day in front of a 14 inch computer screen day after day ,every day  were not a true representation of the society.they represent mostly an intellectual class far insulated from the ground realities  and are driven more by rage and less by practicality.But while  most of the world around was keeping  busy with afternoon brunches,evening banters and night outs, the fact that 500 odd people were standing in December cold with candles dripping between their fingers,no matter how symbolic a gesture ,invoked far more powerful a message than a million shallow words.

At a time when shock has given way to boredom, rage has been replaced by exhaustion,And Sachin’s retirement has more people worried than the plight of a 23 year old girl brutally raped and violated ,one can rightfully question the validation of these protests and our existence as a society.But when one sees people  fighting relentlessly on the streets of Delhi and  other parts of the country one gets a feeling  that all is not lost.That there is still enough reason not to give up on this society.That when we have lost hope in everything, the government, the bureaucracy,the police, the courts , the promises , we have regained our hope in something far more important- Ourselves.That there are people who care, who give a shit.

That is reason enough to keep me hoping.

Whether this fire will remain ignited or will fade away like the candle melting away between my fingers that night, only time will tell—that night when I stood with hundred others for that girl named Damini.


If not us then who,If not now then when.         

                                                                               – –  Hillel The Elder                      

Why we Indians find the Chinese funny!!

Dear Americans and rest of the western world ,currently struggling with unemployment, recession, elections, political scandals, occupy movements and corporate scams-Hi! Things aren’t amazing in this part of the world either-corruption,poverty,malaria,overpopulation,damaged democracy and a third world status given by you guys.But then,when were they? WE are about to discuss a matter of mutual importance-the Chinese.While the Chinese have been instrumental in stealing your jobs and threatening the monopoly of your governments across the world,they are a pain in the ass for us too.But,while their phonemenal rise doesn’t irk us as much,there are matters related to them that makes us say—what the fuck.Following are few of the reasons we Indians find the Chinese funny :-

ENGLISH.The Chinese have made an astonishing progress in the last few decades and have gone on to become the 2nd  most powerful economy in the world,have built more skyscrapers in Shanghai alone  than there are in Chicago and LA put together but most of them  still can’t talk in English,which is essentially douche.So, you are telling me that you can comfortably talk  and write in the world’s most difficult  language , Cantonese  but cannot get a language as lame ,with only 26 letters  in its alphabet, as English. That is what happens when you are not colonized by the British. You suck at English and all those menial call center jobs don’t go to you,they go to your neighbor.

CHOPSTICKS.The Chinese eat with chopsticks. We Indians who didn’t know what table manners mean until the advent of the 21st century are flabbergasted every time we see a Chinese guy eating with chopsticks. It’s like watching Ripley’s Believe it or Not! Eating with chopsticks is as difficult as solving a 2nd degree homogenous equation and as ridiculous as Samsung SIII’s price tag. Why can’t you just fucking use spoon and fork. Or better, use hands, like us Indians. We Indians use hands for eating because for us eating with our hands is like wearing jeans. It’s easy, comfortable, hip and trustworthy. You always know whether you have washed your hands or not unlike the spoon and fork in the restaurant. If you got the point please pass it to Oprah Winfrey. The bitch has been talking shit ever since she made her visit to India.

THE TIBET SCAM.Chinese oppression of the Tibetans has landed us into a lot of trouble. Many Tibetans took refuge in India to escape the Chinese totalitarian wrath and to continue their fight for their country’s independence. So, there are a lot of Tibetans roaming around in India. And, every time we come across them it’s a race issue.I mean, how the  fuck are we supposed to know whether the guy standing in front of us with small eyes and practically half our height is a Tibetan, a Chinese, a Nepali  or a north eastern. Secular as we are, we tried to give them a common reference name – chinkies. But apparently, they don’t like it much.

THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA. The Chinese are fucking impractical. They built this great wall to protect themselves from other countries while the truth being other countries need that very wall to protect themselves from the Chinese. (South Korea, India, Tibet,etc )

JACKIE CHAN.He might be a great actor and the highest paid actor in Asia but to us he is basically Rowan Atkinson with a Kung fu degree.

OLYMPIC MEDAL HAUL.And what the fuck is with these gold medals. The number of gold medals the Chinese won this Olympics, given the value of gold, would equal Haiti’s economy.

MADE IN CHINA.China nowadays builds everything from DVD players to Dildos. But while their products are as cheap as a Russian whore they are as unreliable as the  School Headmaster’s  temper.And also, Chinese are great at copying.They have copied everything, from Apple’s products to Chevrolet’s  designs and are making more money than Bill Gates would have ever dreamt of.They say in our land that if you want to make it big in your life, then either think  like Steve Jobs or copy like a Chinese.

DISCLAIMER.This article might come across as racist and offensive, because it is. However, this article was written in good humor and the Chinese are requested to take this light heartedly, whatever that means in a communist country.The author doesn’t wish to offend the Chinese community because they might be short  and cute looking,but if Bruce Lee’s movies are to be taken seriously,they are dangerous.



I hate family reunions. I have a large extended family ; And every time I see them together I feel guilty of the fact that my forefathers were one among the people responsible for India touching 1.2 Billion today. Like one of my aunts has 13 sisters. Seriously, what were you planning—a family owned female football team!!

First of all, I hate my relatives. My mind is still raw from their abuse. Every summer vacation, one or the other of my relatives would drop at my place with a packet of sweets and a bag of nonsense. And their first interaction with me would be “beta, how much did you score in your last exam”. My score would be a measly 80% which is crap in a CBSE board where 96% students score 96% or above.They would anwer back “Our son Babloo, your cousin, came first in the class with 98%.You should take your studies a bit more seriously. You know what, you should try yoga. It will improve your concentration and your performance .Now, that is some shitty advice. If I am an underperforming mediocre, then I am an underperforming mediocre. Yoga can’t change that.If yoga helped improve intellect ,then Ramdev’s sidekicks would be running Microsoft by now. Besides, I don’t get yoga. In half of those asanas it seems like you are trying to have sex with yourself.

Anyways, after being periodically compared to someone’s son, daughter ,brother or sister and after being declared the official dim wit of my family with no tangible achievement to flaunt,I  felt like registering myself on

Anyhoo,I am not a big fan of marriage as an institution. It’s basically a promissory note of Free sex and domestic help to guys. But what is more irritating is the 10 odd day long charade called wedding.

Now, a real wedding is nothing like a Suraj Barjatia flick- happiness being in the air,people going gaga over each other , coming together of implausibly well behaved and kind hearted people to celebrate a grand communion of two souls—fuck, that’s just not what happens in a real wedding.A real wedding is a mixture of confusion, chaos, nausea and a lot of bitching.

Everytime I go to a wedding in the family, I see a gathering of random people supposedly related to me  and all I see is a bald uncle, an obese aunt,a pimple faced cousin and so on.So, I have  a 48% chance of going bald , 33%  chance of turning diabetic and a 5.23% probability of becoming mentally unstable just because I share my genetic code with these people.Fuck you, genetically  transmitted diseases.These people stuffed under one roof  in the name of socializing try to outdo each other  on the yard stick of status ,individual superiority and superiority of respective siblings.Like, there was this uncle-aunt pair was talking about their son’s so called bright future.-“Rohan is really brilliant.He is going to Kota and is taking classes in Resonance.Two years on ,he will be an IITian.” And I just couldn’t take the shit and blurted out-“  Just like every Nepali is not a watchman,the same way every resonance guy is not ending up in IIT.His parents looked at me as if  I committed something worthy of capital punishment. I still can’t  figure out as to what pissed them off more-my utter confidence in their son not going anywhere near an IIT or my racist remarks about the Nepali community.

Every family has a few members from the A K Hungul era,who still don’t know how operate a cell phone properly,blame  mini skirt clad girls and MTV reality shows for ruining our culture,occupy the TV for 18 hours a day watching Ramdev and Nirmal Baba on Sadhna tv ,love Dilip Kumar,hate Akhay  Kumar and who still can’t figure out as to why boys today wear their jeans  way below their ass crack.And these people are always present in every wedding without fail,because lets face it they don’t have anything better to do.Now, these guys have a desperation to talk to the younger generation because everyone else is too busy to listen to them.So,when they get hold of you they start talking which is a torture because it’s like having history lessons again.So, they talk about the good old 60’s, their struggle when they were young;how they had to walk 20 miles every day to school and study under the lantern light because of lack of electricity;about how great a man Jawaharlal Nehru was and how his daughter Indira Gandhi almost ruined this country;the turmoil of the License Raj and political upheaval during Emergency.Forget relating to,you can’t even understand what these people say, because let’s face it ,when was the last time anybody took Social Studies seriously in school.

Every time I attend these weddings I get probed from all directions by seemingly related people asking questions about my salary,my positon in the office,the vehicle I own,if I had any foreign trips,my plans for marriage and i keep disappointing them with my answers(while they were at it, they should have also asked me my underwear size and my toilet routines.The shit quotient of the questions asked would have improved).Every time people listen to how much I earn, they look at me the way  people look at guys suffering from testicular cancer—a cocktail of apathy and sympathy.During those times I feel like Jagan Mohan Reddy.Only difference being he is being scorned at for earning more than enough and I for not earning enough.

There are so many things that make weddings look like South American circus.Some of them are as follows:-

The fact that most of the weddings take place at night  for which I have to wake up the entire goddamn night.Back in office I get about 500 bucks for doing the same.(night shift allowance)

The wedding procession. Marriages usually start with heart patient unfriendly Daler Mehndi  tracks being played at the highest levels of decibels that will make you lose your faith in music and drunk guys dancing to those tracks like SriDevi from Naagin.

The women in the wedding.The women attending the wedding  wear so much make-up that if you look at them up close you will get an idea of what it would feel watching THE EXORCIST alone at night.And the amount of gold ornaments they wear it feels as if they recently robbed MUTHOOT gold loan guys.And the amount of cloth they wrap around themselves, if each one of them donated those garments it would be enough to cloth the entire north Africa.

The Bride.The bride is generally as expressionless as John Abraham .A desperate effort to keep her Make up intact,may be.

The gifts.The gifts usually given at the wedding comprise of mixer,grinder,photo frames,electric toaster and other useless items which people receive at their own wedding and dispose those off in some one else’s wedding.

The Bride’s father – The most tragic figure in the wedding.The father during the wedding looks like he has been convicted of race crimes in Liberia.He has to arrange the whole thing,pay for the whole thing with 20 years of his savings,cater to the groom’s relatives who somehow have an idea that just because they are from the groom’s side they deserve to be treated like Prince Charles Of England,please his own relatives and neighbours who make it a point to find fault in everything from the food to the bride’s dress to the number of pimples on the groom’s face.

Yes, I find wedding less of a grand ceremony and more of a charade .Life is not a Yash Raj flick,people are not cardboard  cut outs of Hum Saath Saath Hain and Facebook pictures do not tell the entire story.And also the picture in the blog is not that of my family


Getting into IT job Is as big an achievement as coming third in a competition involving three participants. participants. Working in IT Sector is as gratifying an experience as watching Basic Instinct minus the sex scenes. So, we all know that the whole IT success story they are talking about, with IT guys being the chain pullers of ‘shining India’ cart burgeoning towards creating a global mark is nothing but a big pile of horse shit and can be called “bull shit” in the words of the Americans, ‘bonkers’ in the words of the British or ‘chutiyaap’ in the words of the residents of Chowdi bazaar, Delhi.

Still, there is no dearth in pricks around who take pride in being “IT boys” and have also developed an attitude on it. And this is surprising because currently we are in this job not because of our knowledge acumen and technical know how we acquired while dragging our asses through this shitty education system but because some white people somewhere in Europe,America heading some big heavy weight companies thought it wasn’t worth spending money on lame jobs and decided to outsource it to some underdeveloped,overpopulated country whose people six times darker are 60,000 times desperate to do the job in 1/6th the salary. Still, there are people who believe that IT job is one hell of a job. And yes, these are the same freak-shows who think ROADIES is the best series ever,Salman Khan is an Oscar deserving actor and Chetan Bhagat is India’s hope for Nobel prize in Literature.
If working for an IT company wasn’t traumatizing enough, there are hacks in the office you meet (and believe me, there are many) who make you feel that suicide after all isn’t that bad an idea. In this job one feels more out of place than Robert Pattinson looks while playing Edward Cullen in that gay movie I don’t bother to recall.
So,while sitting in my office having nothing important to do, I observed people working there, their behavior, patterns asking to be stereotyped, their desperation to act serious while all they actually do is “copy – paste” codes from Google. These are a few stereotypes I noticed in the office.

-The Male Stereotypes-

THE GEEK :         The geek here is not exactly the odd genius rather a guy who crammed up “Core Java by Greg Cornell’ believing this could lead to success in life but ended up with not so encouraging results.The geek thinks mugging up Pearsons’ books and doing 1800 odd certifications can lead to higher package,promotion and a realistic chance of getting laid.He doesn’t have a social life to begin with and his only interaction with females is on at a premium membership of Rs 1400/- only.

THE DUDE :             Has a lot of money probably because his grandfather had property somewhere near Noida which Mayawati decided to buy in order to build F1 Circuit or her own statues.He roams around in pajero and tries to act sophisticated but his accent is a dead giveaway.He has spent 8 hours per day in GYM for the past 5 years while normal people around were busy doing something sensible and worthwhile.Girls like him.Guys hate him because girls like him and because he is a dick. And girls like him because he is a dick(see Mr. Joseph Heller ,I can produce better Catch-22s than you)And this guy is probably screwing that pretty girl in the office you had a crush on. He doesn’t know why he is in this job.It’s obviously not the money.It’s mostly because he doesn’t have any land left to sell and sitting at his Dad’s shop can get boring with the chances of checking out hot chicks in tight Business attire being minimal.

THE WANNABE DUDE :             hates ‘the dude’ but imitates him to become to become popular among the women folks.But is either too tall,too short,too fat,too thin,too bald or too dark to get noticed by girls.Generally shops from paalika bazaar and takes pride in the fake Tommy Hilfiger shirts that do not fit. Is very happy with his job as he wasn’t expecting anything better from his life.hails from a lower middle class family and most probably has a student loan,an elder sister waiting to get married and an ageing father approaching retirement.

THE FRUSTRATED :           is painfully aware of the shittyness of this job.doesn’t have many friends as he spends most of the day and most of his life cursing people and cursing himself. Is probably some guy who secured 98% in 10th and thought he would end up in Google,instead ended up here.Blames everybody from his girlfriend,his parents to Bansal Coaching Classes for ruining his life and has 33% higher chances of committing suicide or dying of a heart condition.


THE SMALL TOWN GIRL :                hails from small city like Ranchi, Meerut, Indore, Chandigarh or Patna.If rated on the basis of looks , she might be average to pretty.Is in this job because the HR thought her presence in the job would be a good motivation for the male co-workers.Like any other normal girl ,she is inherently technically challenged and takes help from that guy in the office who she is currently dating only because she needs somebody to write codes for her and take care of other petty issues.
She believes being in a big city away from home and parental guidance has given some sort of a license that she is obliged to utilize fully.So, she gets rid of her salwar kumeez,hangs out with boys,takes tequila shots in pubs and thinks that doing these things would make her look classy,open minded and elitist .But watches  Saas Bahu in her free time ,so all the elitism goes down the drain.

THE PSEUDO SOPHISTICATED :                 hails from an educated upper middle class family.Has developed an accent because her parents could afford to send her to schools like Don Bosco or Doon Valley.Often advocates feminism and talks about importance of English education,proper accent,rising woman power,objectification of women in this male chauvinistic society and bores people to death.Tells everyone about her plans of doing MBA at IIM because her current job is so beneath her and IIM is where she deserves to be.Is highly irritating and should be avoided because constant interaction with her can cause hypertension.

THE HOTTIE :                         hails from an upper middle class to upper class family. Dad’s probably a builder.Is not naturally beautiful but regular visits to Beauty Parlor have helped her achieve desired results. Is a potential customer for Botox and Implants once she reaches 40.Has a dozen boyfriends and has made a dozen others believe that they are her boyfriends.Life is easy for her as compared to other girls because she doesn’t have to wait for the annual winter mega discount sale to do her shopping.She wears tight fitting formals in office with a neatly tied pony ,6 inches high stilettos and fake brown hair which makes you believe she is in there to promote Garnier color free naturals.In casuals she wears skirts so short that it looks as if she borrowed it from her 5 year old niece.She in all probability is going to end up as Project manager because people are desperate and think helping her in her work or promoting her might increase their chances with her.Either that, or she is getting married to some NRI working as an investment banker in Europe or probably running a visa scam in Middle –East.

THE BEHENJI :                     deserves to be the PM because the only thing she has done in her life is work(though will have to work twice as hard as the hottie to reach the same position).She buys dresses in whole sale and her fashion sense is so bad that the students of National Institute of Fashion Technology are asked to stay away from her during their exams.Has lost all hopes of finding a boyfriend and is currently dependent on her parents to find her a male partner in the form of arrange marriage.

So,life in IT sector is shitty and you meet weirdos everyday.And as my friend once said,its as humiliating as peeing in public.

DISCLAIMER: The author holds no responsibility if you feel bad after reading this article.Donot try to relate to any of the above mentioned stereotypes as it will only lead to you cursing me and me cursing you back.