December 30, 2009


Worked from home due to the passing away of a Kannada star, and the ensuing burning of buses and stoning of streets with which such news is regularly greeted. Doorbell rang and a hyperenthusiastic salesman greeted me, shook my hand and wished me a Happy New Year, and then asked me if I was studying or working. Of course I said studying (to be fair I had been reading a book after having finished my work assignments when he appeared). "Engineering or Software?" he asked, since everyone in Bangalore obviously studies one of the two hallowed subjects when they are not torching buses. Software, I replied. I guessed software only, since you are speaking so decently, he said (and yes, decent is a compliment where we live, ok?)

Of course I did not buy the crazy eyebrow trimmer he was so keen on demonstrating to me, but hey, I can still convince a guy who wants to sell me a 300-rupee Chinese malfunctioning gadget that I am a student! Of Software. Which is the part of the computer that you can curse but not smash. See. I know!

And the line that made my day comes from the Venerable Fount Of All Knowledge we call comments, where a guy has written about a suicide story:

"Did he really commit suicide or is it just news?"

Way to go India. If you can see the difference between news and truth, there is still hope for you! Now leave that bus alone.

December 24, 2009


Completed 3 years of fights, hugs, midnight Maggi, amazing vacations, side-by-side computers, unlimited idlis, abysmal PJs, shared jeans, kurtas, jackets, dreams, and hatred of political correctness! Yay us!

Saw 3 Idiots today. Particularly liked the time travel device that transports people from Vasant Vihar in Delhi to IIM Bangalore in half a second. I know a coupla eternal teenagers who would pay good money to use it every other day!

Don't wanna reveal anything more: just go ready to laugh a lot and cry in equal measure.

November 24, 2009


If a guy called Venkatesh had a twin brother, what would his name be?



November 12, 2009

Suffer Chaloo Aahe

Just back from a trip to Mumbai-Pune. Phyan ji chose the same time to visit as us, so that was a dampener, but that's ok. As the idiots say, "All eez well".

Pune is no longer the city I used to live in. There are malls everywhere, and wherever roads are not wider, they are one-ways. All that is very nice, except that the things one would hope to see changing alongside the development are not doing so at all. The public transport, for instance. I remember the difficult time three-wheeler wallahs used to give me whenever I would go to the airport to pick up or drop someone. Not only would they charge exorbitantly even though it was a 2-way ride, they would refuse to help with the bags, even if it was my mother who was travelling.

This time, we were able to brave the rains only because of taxis, and we accepted the fact that they would charge full fare for the day even though we needed them for a couple of hours. But when after that, the driver coolly sat in the cab while we got out in the pouring rain at the airport and were forced to pull our bags out ourselves (while he chanted "ohho! Kitni baarish hai" and sat pretty) I really lost it. This same gentle-my-foot-man demanded to know our plans in advance so that he could break for lunch, even though he knew that in any case he would be relieved by 1pm. I don't believe the vahanchalaks (vahan chaalaak rather) of Pune have heard of customer service or dignity of labour. It is very rarely that I feel like slamming the door of the trunk of a car down on someone's bare neck, and this was one of those days.

Compare this with the smartypants cabbie in Mumbai who refused to accept exact change that I popped under his nose one nanosecond after he stopped, since he gathered from our conversation that we were visitors and our friends were hosting us. Grrrr at him, but a big grin at his tribe!

November 02, 2009

Mann Ka Radio...

Nope, this is not about Himesbhai's latest pesh-kash, although his immortal line "Band jo bajey tera, khul te tu bhi saath gaa" has given me a whole new perspective on life.

This is about the cutesy little Sony mono radio I made my sister give me on my birthday this year. While the husband's pointy (really!) ears can detect about 10,000 different kinds of sound quality, I (deafly enough) do not find my life enhanced significantly by superior quality sound. Gimme a crackling little thingummy on the detergent ledge of my kitchen as I chop and stir and burn my fingers, and I am supremely happy.

Don't tell me that the only Hindi channel in Bengaluru has only a 100 songs a month, and all those are also on our iTunes, and shuffle is as good as radio, even better because nobody's trying to sell you jewellery and apartments in between songs. On radio, I always have the hope that some song I had completely forgotten about, will play again, and my neighbours, who entertain us with drunken parties on Saturday nights, will witness the spectacle of my kitchen choreography and rue the day they were born.

On another note: Either Mohit Chauhan has become too popular suddenly, or he's really upset that aaj ki padhi likhi kaam kaaji bharatiya naari works in the kitchen morning and night, but he serenades me daily while I cook. Which works wonderfully well for me! :)

October 29, 2009

Just so that October does not pass silently

  1. The blog has become kind of redundant because I can let off steam on Facebook and Twitter.
  2. There is no Farmville on my blog.
  3. I'm too busy with Farmville and life to even think of things to say.
  4. The anonymity thing is kind of pointless since most readers know who I am, including the parents, in-laws, and work people. Fat chance of noting down what I REALLY think, under the circumstances, wouldn't you say?
  5. This month the blog turned 5 or something. No longer a baby. Do you know any good schools?
  6. Did I mention Farmville? Am so addicted to it that it's a wonder I manage to do anything else.
  7. So many people have so much to say. And some of it is even worth reading. Might as well just read that.
  8. Damn, has something switched off inside of me?

September 17, 2009

Horror In Real Life

My hands were icky from the auto ride when I reached The Forum to catch up with friends this evening. I went into the ground floor ladies' room of the mall, and it being just shy of 7pm on a weekday, the mall was not crowded, and the ladies room was empty except for a determined cleaning lady who was mopping.

I pushed the soap dispenser's button to get some soap, but no luck. I tried all the other basins, but the soap seemed to have run out. I asked the cleaning lady: "Soap illa?"

I should have known that a paragraph of Kannada would be unleashed upon me. Shame-facedly mumbling "Sorry gotilla", I wondered how much my hands had become ickier because of all the dispensers!

Suddenly the lady said: "She has the soap."

I looked at her, and then looked at who she was looking at. She was staring at the place right next to the first basin, where NOBODY was standing.


"She has it" the lady said again, half-irritated.

There was nobody in the whole area except for us. The only reason I did not crap my pants was because I KNEW there was no soap to clean up with later.

I prepared to leave, and true to the horror tradition, the lady came after me……

….and jabbed the first basin's soap dispenser button hard about a dozen times. Till a few drops of soap began to trickle out.

So ladies, gentlemen and babies, remember that in Bangalore, all accessories in a Ladies' loo are feminine. I wiped my hand on Mademoiselle Paper Tissue delivered into my hands by her mommy Madame Kimberly Clark, and fled.

September 14, 2009


Five mornings of sleeping in till one of four parents loses patience and calls

Two of catching crimson sunrises through eyes crimson with a cold

Seventeen afternoons of making mental grocery lists while looking busy at work

And three of obscenely long siestas after overeating one's own cooking

Fourteen evenings spent reading in coffee shops

Waiting for friends, calls, and that darned cappuccino I ordered 15 minutes ago

Umpteen nights of racing cars and growing tomatoes on the computer

While the washing machine spins and spins and spins

And each day a pointless pin driven into the velvet pincushion of eternity

September 03, 2009


In a restaurant called The Tibetan Kitchen, Leh. Guy with 5 girls at a table

Guy: Can we have some fresh apple juice

Waiter: No sir, only bottled juice

Guy (suddenly getting firang accent): Is it Snapple?

Waiter: What?

Guy (maintaining accent): Snapple. The juice you're going to give us. Is the brand Snapple?

Waiter: No sir. Gulbadan.


At the Big B-School of B'lore, Staff Canteen, where Sis (Thinky) took me for coffee

Professor: Hey Thinky, what does the number on your T-Shirt signify?

Thinky: Oh that's my birthdate!

Professor: A guy once told me a joke. Give me any number and I'll represent it as "A to the power B plus B to the power A"

<some gibberish exchange later>

Professor: Like 24 is 23 to the power 1 plus 1 to the power 23

Professor, Thinky and I: Hahahahahahahaha

Later, I: Puke Puke Puke


In office today:

Dude: There is no comedy in my life!


Leh Gayi Leh Gayi

Despite the fervent wishes of many ex-readers, I am still hale and hearty (neither of the two words mean anything, I suspect) and the blog has been neglected because I've been busy travelling to Ladakh for about 9 days, and then I've been fishing out Ravalgaon candy wrappers from 9 days' worth of laundry all of last week. Ah, the sweet and sour joys of altitude and motion sickness (on our return, they've reverted to being attitude and notion sickness).

I could ooh and aah about the Ladakh scenery - the gigantic bare mountains with little veins of snow and ice on their wrinkled foreheads, the blue blue sky with little puffs of clouds, the riot of flowers where vegetation gets a fighting chance – but I'll leave that for the husband and his fotus. Instead, let's talk about the tons and tons of exquisite turquoise, coral and lapis jewellery in Leh bazaar? Or Jasmine tea and veg momos? Ok. I'm packing up and going back there right now!

Time for some evidence:

From the hotel, which I heartily recommend to anyone planning a trip.

Nine nights of waking up gasping for breath, bleeding noses and a hopeless inability to climb more than two flights of steps… matlab Lung Se Jung!

"Yak"een nahin hota that such beautiful places exist on Earth!

The breathtaking Pangong lake. I believe the film 3 Idiots was shot here recently…

We did manage to catch the shooting of the Ladakhi version!

...and this is one of the 274 reasons, my camera tells me, that I will go back!

August 09, 2009

30 Plus

This morning I woke up and realized that it's true. You really change in your thirties. My hair was weird, my face had wrinkles and lines I had never noticed before, my walk was slower, my back was stiffer, and every task took more time to accomplish. Then I had some tea and time magically turned around and I was back to my twenties! Bah! Kaiko itna hype I dunno!


August 08, 2009

Must Do Things Before I Turn 30

  1. Hang the laundry out to dry
  2. Fold yesterday's laundry
  3. Brush my teeth
  4. Heat water in anticipation of tomorrow's powercut
  5. Comb what's left of my hair
  6. You get the point

It's the big one, and I'm NOT going to mope (or mop) tomorrow. That's all I can promise.

July 24, 2009


From the New York Times. Oh to be needy in the First World!

July 21, 2009

O Mere Maajhi Abki Baar Le Chal Paar

There comes that point in life where the whole world seems to be against you, their demands are unjustified, and you're too weak to fight them alone. You pin all your hopes on that one guy who has promised to stand by you no matter what, and asks for practically nothing in return for helping you through troubled times. I am talking, of course, about my chartered accountant, who might or might not get me my IT receipt this week. Sigh.

Leaving this stuff to parents/the husband seems the lazy way out, so I'll bumble along and learn a few things on the way. I think of it as the downside of being able to do what I want with my earnings. Like donate them all to the government, if some people are to be believed. The thought of doing this thrice a year is scaryyyy. Long live jobs! All hail Form 16!

July 14, 2009

Taxing Times

It's the week of filing tax returns, and the week when I always remember my first brush with Income Tax.

There was this precocious little girl who came to live in our colony (Punjabi: cloney) when I was about 8. She was a brat of the first order, and her major claim to fame was her ability to turn her eyelids inside out. It was one of the most horrendous things I had ever seen, and my eyes used to water and clamp shut at the sight. All of us used to beg her to not do it, but she threatened to reverse the natural ocular order at the slightest provocation. If opposed persistently, she would unleash her standard dialogue: "Mere Papa Income Tax Officer hain! Tere ghar pe chhapa padwa doongi."

That used to be the line that shut me up promptly. I knew that there was no way my parents would appreciate an income tax chhapa on our house just because I could not stand inside-out eyelids. I never even told my parents about the income tax chhapa possibilities. Not because I come from a family of underworld dons, but because income tax was not even a fuzzy concept in my brain. "Chhapa" on the other hand, was a very vivid word, a kind of bold splashy print. And my parents had just gotten the whole house whitewashed….

July 09, 2009

Learning, Unlearning

Age 5: After a blood test, you get lots of chocolates.

Age 29: After lots of chocolates, you get a blood test.


Age 19: Attendance does not matter. Knowledge is all.

Age 28: Knowledge does not matter. Attendance is all.


Ages 5, 10, 15, 20, 25: Mummy knows everything.

Ages 7.5, 12.5, 17.5, 22.5, 27.5: Mummy knows nothing.


Age 6: Boys are evil

Age 25: Evil boys are the only company worth keeping


Age 12: The human body converts carbohydrates into energy

Age 18: Some human bodies convert oxygen into fat


30 days to go before the big three oh! Expect pithy wisdom all month!

June 25, 2009


*This lesson comes to you free of charge.

Spar, the "hypermarket" on Bannerghatta Road, just redid their entire store layout. The claim to have created "Worlds" in the store: one for home, one for groceries and whatnot. They've mainly shooed out all the underperforming brand stores from their premises, and spread out their wares so that there is no 3-hour trolley traffic jam in the aisles. For which I am very grateful, especially since I was always an innocent victim of the trolley jam.

The supermarket trolley is the most devious marketing ploy ever dreamt up by retailers. It's chugging along on wheels with minimal effort from your side, if you have an infant you can plonk the bugger little darling into the baby holder and let it rip colourful packets off the shelves or dupattas off the shoppers as it passes them by, and if you like those breadcrumbs that might be useful for making those cutlets that you haven't made in four and a half years, you can just throw the packet into the trolley and carry on. You could end up collecting raw materials (incomplete, of course) for half a dozen cookery and hobby projects to counter your premature midlife crisis, all in one hour's shopping, and never realize it, because the trolley is doing the damned lifting! The trolleys will make sure you use EVERY ONE OF THOSE SODEXO COUPONS in your booklet, even the 50 paisa ones that you count fifteen times when you're ahead of me in the queue (may your cutlets fall to pieces in the kadhai). Between the trolley and the Sodexo, you can be sure that Spar is going to expand into the apartment complex next to it before the year is out!

The husband has devised a wonderful strategy to beat the retailers at their own game. We always pick up a basket. When the basket becomes too heavy, it means it is time to stop shopping. If it becomes too heavy before you've picked up the essential stuff you came to buy, well, you just put those 2 litre bottles of mild detergent back into the shelves! If that doesn't work, you just hand the damned basket to the husband and get another one (basket, not husband).

Today I saw how Spar has deviously shifted the billing counter to the ground floor, and lined the space where the queues form on weekends with chocolate, chips and other junk food that we all eat but scold kids for demanding. Mummies will not even be able to see what junior is adding to the pile on the trolley because she's busy playing "The Price Is Right" in her head and counting off Sodexo coupons. Devious, devious store. To take revenge, I did not even pick up a basket today. I must have looked like a crazy fat woman with flying hair clutching groceries in my arms, but that's how I walked to the billing counter. Bwahahahaha! You cannot make me buy more than I need!

And yes, I DID need that mango, ok???

In other news, The Times Of India has made an amazing breakthrough in the study of the human body.

"Low birth weight due to toxic chemical in toys"

Apparently, the 100% conscience free retail chains are now targetting gullible foetuses. Expecting Ladies who just saw an ultrasound that nearly killed them: It's not a three headed baby! The kid has a playpen in there!

June 09, 2009


Remember the scene from The Father Of The Bride where the girlie comes home in tears and threatens to call off the wedding when the guy gets her a blender as a gift, because he thought someday she might want to blend something? Well, I came quite close to threatening to call off my already-happened wedding when the guy just refused to get me a blender, even though I so clearly needed to blend something every now and then! But he's a darling cutie pie and I have been working damned hard in my can't-put-on-the-resume animal husbandry role, and we're now the proud owners of a mixer-grinder.

Of course I have gone bonkers with the new gadget, and given the husband's inexplicable need to watch every single T-20 World Cup match down to its end despite not having a TV, we're having two dinners daily. One at about 9 and another at 11:30. (Mothers, please turn your attention to your other kids at this time. Thanks for having those cute little girlies.)

Here's what we've managed to make so far:

Pesarattu: For the first time in my life I measured the ingredients. It's not my style.

Mango Milkshake: Sad that the mangoes are all but gone from 'looru

Aamras: See above

Mattar Paneer with actual gravy instead of floating onion cubes and tomato skins

So just writing in to say hooray, and if you're looking at buying a mixie in the near future: Jo biwi se karey pyaar, woh Mophy Richards Icon DLX se kaise karey inkaar??

Singing off with a lovely ad I found online. Can't be abusive on a "family" blog (Hi Papa!) so I'll just say the guy is wearing the last set of clothes that the mixie hasn't washed for him….

June 02, 2009

Yellow Dal

At the supermarket yesterday, a newly married chooda-dhaari girlie and her friend were trying to buy dal for what was clearly the first time in their lives. "This one? This is the yellow dal? The one for sambhar? The one for dal chawal? Are they the same?" Since they were standing facing the right one, I did not offer to help, and just walked past with a smile. They were speaking in Hindi, and if their accent had been dyed Punjabi, I'd have had to push them a fair bit to the left.

Yellow Dal. That mysterious, all-encompassing name of the food of those who do not enter the kitchen! My favorite question, and one which I regularly ask random people is: "How man kinds of yellow dal are there and what are their names?" Most people stop at two, which are the two their Mummy makes. Anyone who goes beyond three is generally a cook (for better or worse). 

Now you're surely thinking how many kinds there are. My answer is five. Maybe there's one or two I missed. Mind you: not all of these look yellow in the shop! Give them 10 minutes of introspection in  a pressure cooker and they'll rang themselves basanti for sure!

Aside: The Husband has left a strange song playing on the comp: "hey hey hey lady! don't treat me like a baby! hey hey hey mister, don't treat me like a sister..." iTunes tells me it's from Ussele Ussele...Abey kiss-se kya lena hai? 

June 01, 2009

Grandpa's Century!

That's me cutting my first birthday cake in Daddy's lap. Today is his hundredth birthday, so it's only fitting that we cut a cake together again. Happy Birthday Daddy!

"Ek dafaa..." is how all his stories used to begin, and I still remember many of them.

My favorite is a drama in real life from his own childhood:
When Daddy was a little boy, he once got into a fight with a classmate, who, incidentally, had a dislocated elbow tied up in a plaster. When they came to blows, Daddy hit the boy's broken arm rather forcefully with his slate. The boy cried all the way home. Soon enough, he arrived back in school with his father. Daddy knew he was in big trouble and hid immediately. "Kahan hai (daddy's name)?" the father yelled. Eventually, Daddy had to emerge and face the fire. But hey! the father had brought along a box of sweets for the naughty kid who had hit his son!!!
Turns out that the doslocated arm, which the doctor had been trying for many days to slip back into place, got perfectly aligned with one master stroke of Daddy's slate. With 7 doctors in his extended family, it would be tempting to say that his kids inherited his gift for healing.... but no..... nobody else practises his unique hit-and-trial style!

A dedication from my younger sister, his youngest grandchild and, according to him, a reincarnation of his mother (she bossed him around like that for sure):
My memories of my relationship with Daddy are in part those which I remember from my childhood and those that have been told and retold by my family. His room was a territory it seems I had free access to and many of the elders feared to tread in (specially when he was sleeping). The office, the black ledgers, the book in urdu with the stamps, the glue, the letterheads, the walking stick, his white hair: they all fascinated me and I can still see them when I shut my eyes. Posting letters in the red letterbox with him. The fights to make sure he didn't get more kharbuja than I did. Stories of how I was completely indulged by him, how rules were changed for me, and how I let out secrets I was told to keep by my parents. He was my grandmother and my grandfather. I called him "angootha-chaap" because he couldn't write his name in hindi! But being the youngest, you get away with a lot. Daddy, this comes in late but Happy Birthday and thank you for all your love.

And now for a guest post from my father. "Ek dafaa...

a boy was born in an agricultural family on the 1st of June 1909 in a small village in Laiyah (now in Pakistan)… he lost his mother at a very young age… worked in farms for a few turnips for lunch and his school expense. He was the first in the family to try his hand at education. Through his inclination, dedication and above all the blessings of his teachers, he passed matric and went to Lahore for his graduation. He got married and had a loving wife and five daughters He worked very hard to make ends meet .When the youngest daughter was 13 days old India got independence and the Partition happened. He went deep into Pakistan and after few months came to India with the help of his Muslim friends in Pakistan. By the grace of God he, his wife and five daughters, their sewing machine and a few valuable reached India safely. The Partition had the sorrows for him too: he lost his sister and her husband.
His office re-established in Delhi and he was instrumental in getting it reorganized. He lived in a shared accommodation in Mehrauli above the Arya Samaj Mandir, and used to commute by buses everyday all the way to Delhi University North Campus. In 1951, when he was 42, he had a son. This is where I come into the picture. I am the son and the person I am talking about is my father, who would have completed his century on 1st Jun 2009 if he had not got out at 83 on 18th Jan 1992.

I was the full stop of my parents' children. The earliest remembrance I have of him was when I was five or six years old. I remember him as a hard-working, disciplined and a strict but affectionate father. He had his priorities: clean clothes, health food, good education, simplicity and punctuality. Six children, a wife and a moderate salary: still he made sure that none of us feel deprived of the basic essentials of life. On top of it all, he helped his brother-in-law, and a few nephews to study and make their lives. Before he retired, all my five sisters had completed their education and four of them had been married.

When I went to college, he had retired and was fully involved in a career of Life Insurance business. On his insistence, after my graduation I joined him .Throughout his life I held it against him that he made me do something that I did not want to do. If I had my way, I would have become a nature photographer or travel guide living somewhere in the Himalayas, where he himself had taken me many times, as he loved nature and traveling.

In 1983, three events happened: First I lost my mother, second India won the Cricket World cup and the third was arrival of my younger daughter. All the three happened in quick succession. Instead of losing himself in grief over the death of my mother, who had been with him through thick and thin of life, he enjoyed the Indian victory of World Cup and played the role of grandmother and grandfather for the new arrival.

On Jan 17, 1992 he went to the office. I was working late, so he met every body he knew in the office. That Friday night he had set his bag for Monday as the next day there was a one day match between India and Australia, and he loved cricket passionately. The next day when we opened the door of his room, he was lying on the floor. We picked him up and called a doctor but it was too late. He was no more.

May 25, 2009

Auto Rakshas Checklist

If you're in Bangalore, please memorize this checklist and evaluate the autorickshaw before you board it:

  1. LICENSE: If it's not displayed, minus two points. If it's a tattered old photocopy, minus one point.
  2. METER: Old meter, minus one point. Old unbranded meter, minus two points.
  3. RELIGIOUS ICONOGRAPHY: Minus one point if God is easily accessible for doling out forgiveness for having fleeced passengers
  4. PROACTIVITY: Minus one for having spotted you from afar and stopped. Remember, in the auto jungle, only the predator hunts.

If all the above problems are present, move on to checklist 2

  1. AGE OF AUTO DRIVER: Minus two for being below 30
  2. LOCATION: Minus two for having been found outside a place of worship. With due respect, God would need a superb lawyer to disprove his connection with the auto mafia.

It's not a foolproof system, of course, but so far it's rarely been proven wrong.



May 16, 2009


Yet another sequel, this time from the netas instead of the abhinetas... hope this one betters the original!
(thanks Deepak for doing all the artwork!)

May 13, 2009


IPL is very closely connected to both my salary and my husband's, so don't blame me for being interested. I don't understand the game, I don't have a TV, and I have barely-there team loyalty, so it's mostly a number-fest out there as far as I'm concerned.

Here are some statistics I culled out (manually) for the last few matches. (Note that the washed-out matches were number 7 and 13!)

Toss Winners:

  • 23 won the match, 17 lost the match
  • 27 chose to bat first, 13 to field first
  • Of those who fielded first, 8 won the match, 5 lost the match
  • Of those who batted first, 15 won the match, 12 lost the match

Now this looks fairly straightforward, assuming those who make a decision after the toss have some sense and it really means something to be able to choose. But that second stat, it's very numerically skewed. Possible reasons:

  1. The pitches are good for batting first. This is probably the actual reason.
  2. Viewership is higher and more focused in the second innings of an exciting match, and sponsors urge the team to fill the field with their logos at that point. This is the theory that makes me fear I will go mad or write saas-bahu scripts in the near future.

May 09, 2009

Maike Se Aike Post

Mom: (something horrible about me, in the way only mothers can do it)

Inky: Did I come across the seven seas to hear this????

Mom: What seven seas does one cross between Bangalore and Delhi???

Inky: Why? Krishna Sagar, Shanthi Sagar, Sandhya Sagar, Upahar Sagar….



May 05, 2009

Pyar Tera Dilli Ki Garmi

The sound and the fragrance of the desert cooler reminds me of the hot hot afternoons when we used to come back from school all squished up and practically busted the poor doorbell in our hurry to get home to mommy, amazing lunch, mangoes, cool cooler air and an afternoon nap. Oh the insufferable five minutes when you had to leave the pump switched on for the grass to get wet before you switch on the fan! The crazy creative plumbing around the house to ensure you did not have to run about with a hose pipe to refill the coolers! The war with the permanently sick little sister over the room temperature! The icky colourful salt deposits that the electrician scraped out of the cooler at the beginning of the season! And the fragrance! The smell of mitti, paani, relief, shelter, childhood and love!

It's taking all I have to not go stand in front of the cooler right now and go "aaaaaaaaaa" and let the fan blades slice my jungle cry!

May 01, 2009

Making The First Move

Off to Delhi for a long-overdue holiday with the parents. Also off to vote, after a lot of thinking on the matter.

I don't think my drop-in-the-ocean vote will change anything. I don't think any of the candidates are any better than the others. I don't think I need that ink on my finger as some kind of social respectability symbol. I set the Aamir Khan "vote karo" ringbacktone on my phone just because HOW COOL IS IT TO HAVE AAMIR KHAN AS YOUR VIRTUAL PHONE-ANSWERING SECRETARY?

Despite all this skepticism, I am going to vote. Because I want to send a message out that educated, young(?), middle class people like me do care enough to vote. They will get to a polling booth (2000 kms away if needed) if you're worth it. So if you're someone who has it in you to fix the shit out there, please go and contest the elections. Don't say the dirty system will be rigged against you. I'll be there to vote for you. I cannot change the country, but I sure can put an end to this vicious circle.

If visionaries keep waiting for us voters, and we keep waiting for them, well you know what happens na? So if you're in a constituency where the elections are yet to happen, go get a blue finger!

April 29, 2009

Nothing, really

Haven't updated in days because I wanted to write about something that is close to my heart.

But I wonder who'd be interested in reading a post about my rib cage?


April 15, 2009

Jaya Jaya Jaya Jaya He!

Addressed a question to everyone in hearing range:

"What is TB called in Hindi?"

Pat came the reply from a Bengali boy:


April 13, 2009

Another Beautiful Song Ruined…

…this time from the film Sikandar.

Mohit Chauhan's magical voice sings:

Gulon mein, rang bharey

Baadalon bahaar chaley

Chaley bhi aao ke

Gulshan ka karobaar chaley….

April 04, 2009


Absurd Hindi Song:

Humein tumse pyaar kitna

Yeh hum nahin jaantey

Magar ji nahin saktey, tumhaarey binaaaaaaa


In English:

How much I love you

I do not know

Crocodiles cannot live without you…


If you have to hit me, please throw only Bata chappals, without heels, size 7.

April 01, 2009

March 26, 2009


(good for a hoarding right outside a liposuction and plastic surgery clinic)

Patli kamar…

Tirchhi nazar…

Baanki umar…

I know what you did last summer!

March 15, 2009


Have accidentally hit upon an amazing diet plan, which involves only one visit to a dentist! Just go and get a wisdom tooth pulled out!


  1. See something tasty and fattening
  2. Eat it
  3. Become fatter


  1. See something tasty and fattening
  2. Eat it
  3. It will taste nice for a few seconds
  4. A bit of it will lodge itself in the gap at the back of your mouth
  5. Your tongue will get sprained trying to maneuver it out
  6. You will spend ten minutes rinsing
  7. You will spend five minutes brushing
  8. At night, the tiny food bit will start hurting your gum
  9. Bleary eyed, sleep deprived and half-day-pay-lossed from office, you'll visit the dentist the next morning
  10. You will have to watch a Tamil movie on a mute TV screen in the dentist's waiting room for 45 minutes
  11. The dentist will spray foul chemicals in your mouth
  12. Your tastebuds will take two hours to recover from the spray
  13. You will go back in time and NOT eat the tasty and fattening thing
  14. You will not grow fatter (unless you have a metabolism like mine)

The bone apparently does not grow back for three months after tooth removal, so you can lose a LOT of weight. Repeat cycle for every wisdom tooth, and you never have to exercise again.


March 09, 2009

Zabardast(i) Song: Tummy Bug Takes Bengaluru

Pretty French girl

attached to beep beep machines

in the Emergency Room

at a fancy hospital.


MRI shows nothing

except a tummy infection.

She's in pain

and tears.


Came to India to get

a taste of

Indian culture.

Now getting

Blood culture,

Urine culture,

Stool culture.

February 27, 2009

Run! Quick!

Go before someone protects Indian culture!

February 25, 2009

Yeh Andar Ke Kaale Bandar Ki Baat Hai!

I think I stumbled upon some proof of the universe being designed by a genius today. Was looking at the online resevation chart for this evening's show of Dilli 6, and since the movie is not a hit, most of the theatre was empty. The only seats full were the most coveted ones, and their graphic representation is uncannily similar to innerwear. 

Most multiplexes have a mix of big and small halls, so...

This is conclusive proof that innerwear will pop up in the strangest of places without warning, which is what Poet-Prophet and my personal hero Gulzar probably meant when he wrote: 

Masterji ki aa gayi chitthi 
Chitthi mein se nikli billi 
Kaan mein jhumkaa, naak mein batti 
Haath mein jaise agarbatti 
Agar ho batti kachhua chaap 
Aag pe baitha paani taap 
Taap chadhe to kambal taan 
VIP underwear baniyaan... 

Baaki Dilli 6 had both me and my dude sniffling and wiping our eyes more than once. If only the plot had not been a 10-headed Ravana...

February 21, 2009

Life In A Metro

By God ki kasam sitting all your life there in Dilli 6 or 60 or wherever your birth and brought up happens to happen, you hardly come to know what nautanki all the Indian languages do with each other! It's like they all sat down together one drunken night and made a pact to marry off one of their harmless words to one of the naughty ones of the other language and watch the fun as their speakers get tossed about in the bhelpuri of modern India!

About a week into my new job in Bangalore, the boys got courageous enough to distract me from my work by pulling my hair. Am really impressed it took them that long, because before this, I have been everyone's kid sister from very early on, and hair and cheek pulling has been a cruel part of making new acquaintances. So there I am, working at my new job in a new city, when yank! my ponytail is attacked. I turn back and ask: "Yes, what do you want?"

"Nothing! Just chumma" says the little boy

I am certain I heard that wrong. "What?"

"Arrey chumma man!"

I want to pack and go home to mommy daddy immediately. Look at the innocence and nonchalance on this guy's face. He's like 7 years younger than me!

Ok. So chumma means JUST LIKE THAT FOR NO PARTICKLER REASON in Malayalam. And of course kiss in Hindi, another (horrific) word for it being bosa, of which the plural is bosay, which is how all the security guards in London hostels like to pronounce the Bengali surname Bose, which is so obviously another story that I dunno how I got into it.

Back to work then. Over the years, have grown used to the inordinate amounts of Malayalam that flies about the office, and wait patiently for my turn to speak before informing whoever is talking to me in that superfast language that I did not get any of what they just said. Makes me mad at times, but then these lovely souls make up for that by proclaiming every now and then: "We are mal. We are proud to be mal."

"Oh yes! That you are," I say. "Top quality mal" (for the uninititated, mal (say mull) in Hindi is, umm… poo)

Nehavish once told me the story of her flabbergasted and horrified Tamilian mom's first Delhi encounter with the hindi word "kundi" (latch in Hindi, bum in Tamizh… what did I tell you about the drunken languages?). You should get her to tell it to you, because I distinctly remember laughing till I fell on to the floor of the District Line tube from Blackfriars to East Ham (home of Sakthi store and Sarvana Bhawan) when she told it to me.

Today, one Hindi- and one Tamizh-speaking carpenter is (are? is.) working in my house. As I asked the Hindi speaking guy if I needed to use the kundi each time I close the cupboard, my foot was in my mouth one nanosecond after the words left it.

Aaaaargh! <foot caught in last remaining extraction stitch>

February 18, 2009

The Obligatory Dentist-Bashing Post

It would be completely out of crackter for me to not write about my visit to the dentist, and my first ever (tang-da-dang) dental surgery. I can't even pretend to hope it's the last, for God knows I have sinned and will pay.

After being scared and reassured by more or less the same number of people, I went into my wisdom tooth removal procedure pooping in my pants, because it really has nothing to do with other people, does it?

On behalf of mom-in-law, I asked the dentist how long he's been practicing, and 8 years of post-grad dentistry seemed just about passable (after all industry mein naye talent ko chance dena chahiye etc).

It did not take the 20 minutes the ex-boss's wife told me it would. It did not take the one hour the dentist had told me it would. It took two godforsaken hours, the anaesthesia ran out in the middle, there was a time when three heads and four hands were inside my mouth looking for a tooth that was completely hidden behind a bone (wisdom is nothing if not deep-set). Meanwhile, I drank a lot of blood and "irrigation", which is probably the original recipe for a Bloody Mary, coz I sure was drunk by the end of it all.

Now two days have passed and all that's left is a cut at the corner of my mouth from the steel clamp holding it open for two hours, loose threads hanging in my mouth from the dentist's shoddy needlework, and the superhuman air-tasting ability of my tongue thanks to Ciplox TZ. Any parents reading this must have fainted or started weeping by now, for which I am very sorry to them. But the part of my wisdom that was sensitive to readers' feelings is lying in five pieces in the dentist's dustbin!

Actually, I'm doing quite well and having a happy day after a long time. :D

February 14, 2009

Valentine Diwas

After months of nagging from our side, the landlord relented and sent the painters along to paint the house on Valentine's Day of all days. So the morning was spent in the healthy marital discord that acoompanies any self-respecting couple's accomplishment of domestic tasks. The rest of the day was spent sneezing and watching helplessly as the loving landlord's minions painted our humble abode a very very pale shade of pink (Like shy is coming for lily to see roses kissing in neighbourhood flowerbed. Yeggzackly. Pls wipe your throwup yourself.) 

The shooing off of painters was celebrated with rooftop Punju dinner on Church Street, and exchange of gifts (I replaced his deodorant which I had finished, and he got me gazillions of good bacteria that will prevent my antibiotics from killing me. We're leaving the dentist to do that on Monday.) 

Whatever else you say about our V-day, the Sri Ram Sene would approve of it I am sure!

February 12, 2009

Verdict: Wait For The D(e)VD

Are you too old, or too jaded when Dev D does not scandalize/impress/provoke/amaze you?

When we were kids, we had this stupid joke where we'd form a snake's head with our hand, twist our arm in a zigzag serpentine motion and ask the other person: "what is this?" and the other person would invariably say "a snake". Then we'd make the snake hand and dart it straight ahead zupp! and ask "and what is this?"… the pathetic answer was "a drunken snake!"

Why am I blabbering about this? Because after 4 days of 1500mg cocktail antibiotics, I am seeing the real world pretty much as Dev Bhaiyya on his chosen drugs, so all those psychedelic scenes and pretty much the whole movie seemed pretty much straightforward and simplistic to me.

No seriously, even the riddickulous Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi had its moment of glory with drunken Raj/Suri's little chat with the mannequin. Where was Dev D's moment of greatness?

*Spoiler Warning: Where did Paro's inner life disappear? How's Dev gonna stay out of prison beyond the happily ever after type credits? And random references to real Delhi events? Very tacky! Gimme Oye Lucky any day!

*End Spoiler Warning

P.S.: The husband wanted more footage for the dog. Probably an hour or so more. Which dog? Don't ask!

P.P.S.: It's not that the movie sent me home with nothing to think about. I'm very interested in a sociological observation of whether Abhay Deol can bring the unwaxed male torso back into Bollywood!

February 08, 2009


Have been unable to sleep for the last two nights because of severe pain, and this morning I was informed that my lower left gum is in labour and baby Wisdom Tooth will need a C-section. Now you normally expect a dentist to deliver this kind of news, but this being Bangalore, and it being a Sunday, not a single dentist is at work, even in hospitals! I was running from pillar to post with only a monstrously swollen and menacingly colourful-looking gum, but how about a kid who gets all his pearly whites knocked out by a sibling over who gets the TV remote on Sunday morning? And how about busy corporate types who can attend to niggling tooth problems only on their day off? Why is the most profitable-for-business day chosen for work-life-balance-management by Bangalore dentists?? It's crazy!

Anyway, the doctor who finally told me that the "gum ka baadal" over my last molar is not infected and is just due to wisdom tooth volcanic activity was a teenager-on-emergency-duty at a 5-star hospital. They gave me a nice bed, stuck a thermometer in my armpit (below normal) and even took my BP (normal) and asked me about my profession as part of emergency room courtesy. What left me smiling, despite the physical challenge posed by the gum, was the doctor's indecipherable signature: he was either A.K.Ram or Akram.

February 04, 2009

Hooray! Irresistible Valentines Day Offer!


Sri Ram Sene (association of the patients of Madhuri's husband Sri Ram Nene) is going to catch dating couples in Bangalore on Valentine's Day and forcibly marry them off (using a stub of turmeric, according to the Times Of India), and then, and this is the best bit, they will take the couples to the sub-registrar's office and register their wedding!

So if you've been putting off marriage registration for lack of time, no permanent address proof, fear of being discriminated against for not knowing Kannada, and not being able to afford bribes in recession time, this is your chance! A 100-rupee meal for two at McDonalds with your feet locked under the table and one had locked over the table while you tear open the unopen-able ketchup packets with the other hand and your remaining teeth: that's all you need to get caught and married legally.

Tip: Leave all evidence of already being married at home, and try to look at each other lovingly. And don't fight over the fries; not only are they bad for health, but that will totally give you away!

January 30, 2009

Mummy Knows Best

Conversation between Mom and Inky about something Inky has been doing half-heartedly for some time now.

Inky: But there is no point living day to day like this

Mom: Exactly! You should be living for the moment!

In breaking news, Amitabh Bachchan's driver has been nominated for next year's Padma Shree, making Abhishek the only member of the household without one. We bet Aishwariya is secretly glad she has a tree as a backup husband.

January 28, 2009

Breaking News: Canny Cafeteria Contractor Is New CEO of Tech Firm

Chennai: Employees of Daawadol Corp were taken aback with morning when they were served their daily idly-sambhar breakfast by their CEO Swaminathan Reddy. That it was not token gesture at restoring the dignity of labour was evident when long-time caterer Sushil Prasad was seen sitting in the CEO's chair in his cabin all day.

This drastic upheaval was caused, believe it or not, by a spoonful of chilli pickle. Reddy, who is a regular at the cafeteria, always took an extra spoonful of the aforementioned pickle with his lunch thali, a privilege that Daadwadol Corp assures us is available to all employees without discrimination. However, last Monday, Sushil Prasad noticed that not only did Reddy not ask for the extra pickle, but did not consume the standard issue dosage either. Suspecting that something was wrong, Sushil immediately checked with the cleaning staff if Mr Reddy had made more than his usual visits to the restroom. Having confirmed that the pickle avoidance was not due to indigestion, Sushil talked to Reddy's driver Navneet Singh "Rikky", who confirmed that there had been no angry exchanges in the Reddy household that morning, and in fact Mr Reddy had been most cheerful when he got into the car. Soon after, he had received a call, where an angry voice has very loudly abused him and his female relatives in Punjabi, and Mr Reddy had responded only with polite "sorry, sorry…I will try my best". Rikky had offered to respond to the caller, but Reddy snapped back at him and asked him to look ahead and not drive over any more cow tails for the day.

Sushil then put two and two together, and figured that the angry caller was none other than Mr Bhatia, the Sikh gentleman who had lunch with Mr Reddy in the cafeteria last month. Sushil remembered Bhatia's remark of "oye yaar, roti shoti nahin banaatey? Main yeh beemaron waaley dahi chawaal nahin kha sakta". He had heard from the office boy that apart from roti shoti, Mr Bhatia had demanded lassi shassi during the long meeting, where there had been a lot of talk about some internal audit, which the office boy was sure was the short form of Indian Idol audition.

Sushil had then put four and four together, and from there it was a simple case of short-selling large volumes of Daawadol stocks, and sitting quiet till the company drowned of its own accord. When Mr Reddy was ready to hang himself from the airconditioner in his cabin, Sushil offered to buy him out with his own money, and even offered him a job in the cafeteria. The rest is history.

While Mr Reddy learns the ropes of serving 20 very sadistic ex-direct reports with the exact amount of chilli pickle all at once, Sushil Prasad talks to us in his cabin over lunch his wife has prepared for him. He remarks that while other caterers spend their time observing the botched up flirtation rituals of techies in their cafeterias, he had spent his time picking up the basics of trading, which is what many employees seemed to do all day.

With his deep understanding of every employee's true self, something that can only be gleaned from across a cash counter and not across a CEO's desk, Sushil Prasad plans to revamp the company into a lean, mean organization. As the ex-CFO and current office boy brings in two glasses of lassi, we raise a buttered toast to the bright future of Daawadol.

January 27, 2009

Breaking News*: Employee Finds Promotion Letter In Junk Mail

Hyderabad: Life has taken a new turn for Suresh Kumar LKP, an IT professional in the city. Unlike most of his peers, he has something to be happy about at work in these troubled times.

In a desperate attempt to look busy at work, Kumar has been manually reading and deleting each piece of junk mail in his inbox since last week. This activity is being carried on in almost every cubicle ever since research revealed that Outlook had a 5% edge over Excel as the most important-looking thing you can have open during a surprise check.

However, this afternoon, in the pile of subscription offers to the Economist and the mouse-not-working complaints directed to the OTHER Suresh Kumar (LPK) but inevitably marked to him, Kumar discovered an email from Human Resources, informing him that effective September last year, he has been promoted to Level 67.35 from the earlier 66.87, which translates into a 3% salary hike and an increased conveyance allowance of Rs 400 per month. Kumar says he had completely forgotten that his office went paperless a few months ago, and when his boss had walked over to his desk last September to say "Hope you are happy now", he had assumed it was a reference to the boss having resigned just minutes ago.

Kumar is in talks with Payroll to find out why the hike is not showing up in his monthly paycheck, and is now likely to get a bulk arrears payout, which will reduce his travel time to office by 15 minutes daily, since he will no longer have to take the long route to avoid the grocery shop where he has three months of unpaid bills.

Kumar also discovered a letter of dismissal dated October, but was relieved to find that it was meant for the OTHER Suresh Kumar, who has been fired for stealing the screens of laptops he was supposed to repair, and replacing them with cardboard dummies that had printouts of Microsoft Outlook screenshots stuck over them. His criminal career of 3 years is believed to have been brought to light by a new hire, one of the few to land a job in the company despite having no MBA degree.

*Harassed readers are assured that news will stop breaking as soon as this reporter finds something better to do.

Breaking News: Man Eats Shoe By Mistake

Bangalore: A 30-something IT professional accidentally ate a shoe for lunch today. He noticed this mistake shortly afterwards, when colleagues pointed out that a shoelace was sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

The man, who wishes to remain anonymous, had suffered a recent attack of food poisoning. Friends and family say that his wife had been cooking bland food for him day and night, which is probably why the shoe tasted so normal. The wife, who is not only an incompetent cook but also quite careless, heard of the incident and lamented the fact that oil-free aloo rotis were rotting in her shoe rack this very moment.

Colleagues offered to rush the techie to a hospital and have the shoe removed, but he refused the procedure, saying the shoe had been tastier and more filling than the aloo rotis, and being one of a well-worn pair, it was likely to pose no threat to his delicate digestive system. In fact, he said he was not above contemplating having the other shoe for dinner.

In other news, Indigo Airlines have set a new record by making a flight depart at 10:10 hours despite having informed all passengers that the revised departure time was 10:50. Other airlines have criticized this move as a breach of solidarity, saying that blaming passengers for late departures was an important card up their sleeve, and only so many late departures can be blamed on the late arrival of the incoming aircraft.


January 23, 2009

Because wendigo wants a new post

Posting from BIAL: the voluntary and paid hostage programme of holidaymakers trying to fly out of looru. Flight delayed by forty minutes only, and we were informed by SMS when our phones were being scanned by security. Pardon the extreme annoyance. Hope to get there before it's time to head back. Have a happy long weekend.

January 19, 2009


Is it just me or have Javed Akhtar, Shankar, Ehsaan and Loy really taken Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna ka Mitwa, run it through a blender, and served it to Zoya beti in Luck By Chance as O Rahi Re?


January 18, 2009



If you know of any writing/editing/instructional design type work that needs doing part time/full time, please drop me a line.

Will be much appreciated.

January 16, 2009

Slumdog Millionaire Gangsta Blues Lyrics

Have tried to figure out as much as I could, large sections remain a total mystery!


Gangsta blues

Am I I yo?

Am I great? Am I doh

Am I high? Am I sure?

(I suspect this is my brain cooking up words where only sounds exist)

Etc. (This is beyond me)

Do you hear me? Do you care?

Do you see me? Do you stare?

Gotta find me like the shadow in the dark…..

Don't stare!

Gangsta Blues!

Do you hear me? Do you care?

Do you see me? Do you dare?

Coming for me?/Come and find me? like the shadow in the dark…..

Don't stare!


Hey! Out of line, out of time, out of mind,

Hey! Out of line, out of time, out of mind,

Me no care, me no wanna wanna care

Me no dare me no wanna wanna stare

Don't care

Don't stare!

You think you no really care what people say

You say you no really care what people do

You say you no really care what people think

You say you no really care

Another time, Another place, ?????, turn off the bass


Please correct/add/modify. I HOPE the lyrics are in the CD insert, I STILL CANNOT buy a copy in Bangalore! Aaaargh!

January 10, 2009

The Profitability Of Being Earnest

I went to watch Evam's performance of Wilde's The Importance Of Being Earnest yesterday. The play is really special to me: the last act was in my Class X English book and I was amazed at how incredibly funny writing could be! I discovered a four-play Wilde anthology at home, and read it one night. That was the fateful night right before my Class XII Physics board exam! While the rest of the world revised formulae, learnt answers by heart, and puked their guts out from the tension, I read Wilde for hours that night. Looking back 12 years later, I should have read Shaw before Chemistry, instead of revising equations, learning answers by heart, and puking my guts out.

Back to Evam and Earnest: it was a hastily put-together performance where most people messed up their lines more than once. The costumes were so bad that it was unbelievable, and the set design and arrangement was noticeable in a play for the first time ever for its utter miserableness. That apart, Wilde is impossible to go completely wrong with, so there were quite a few laughs, and overall, I'd probably do this all over again instead of watching Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, or the trailer of Ghajini.

The clearest memory I bring back from the play is Evam's announcement that their annual turnover has touched Rs 1.5 crore. With 300 of us in the audience having paid a Rs 200 per ticket, this figure seemed quite plausible, although it's remarkable in every way! Sunil and Karthik, the founders of Evam, are MICA grads whom I've seen performing on stage during my short stint at the school. Instead of taking up regular "jobs" after getting their management degrees, they've transformed the penniless jhola-kurta actor-director's trope into a well-marketed and very profitable business. Everyone is young, everyone wears black T-shirts, and they offer to do corporate theatre training/events and even sell merchandise. The audience comprises teeny boppers when Evam is performing (which also means that the number of Kanjeevarams diminishes radically, much to my sorrow), and you can see that if it's marketed right, theatre can find its feet, its audience and its place under the sun. If only the play had been worth it, I'd probably have invested another 200 bucks into their Monty Python act later this week. Which is saying a lot, since 200 is definitely a shocker for an NSD-phile who's used to paying 50 bucks, and a certified cheapskate who managed to find a 100 rupee multiplex ticket in Bangalore in the first week for Ghajini (if darling Aamir's going to lobotomize me, I'm not going to pay 300 bucks to have it done!)

Evam, probably, will get better at producing quality entertainment if they know what's best for them in the long run. Meanwhile, do read Wilde if you have exams coming up. What ARE you going to do with degrees and great marks anyway????

January 06, 2009

The Treadmill Test

Was there a Tuesday this week? Are you sure?

Did molten Monday not ooze into Wednesday's core?

Each day is so (un)remarkably the same

When your visiting card has just a name…

Update: The Jugal-banda!!!

January 02, 2009

Deactiving in 3...2...1...

Am on long leave from work, and after a long walk, housework, cooking and a hot bath, I feel drowsy in a lazy dog kind of way every afternoon. However, a nap remains a dream, as all the 20 kids who live in my building have Christmas break at school, and are spending their time not in front of the TV like good kids should (powercuts) but playing in the stairwell and the parking lot. Their favorite game is what I think must be called Banshee Banshee, which involves running up and down screaming at the top of their voices for no apparent reason.
Their other form of entertainment is ringing the bell of the haunted house in our building: the one that's shut almost all the time, emits no sound, and seems to be possessed by ghosts. Nobody ever seems to visit it. You guessed right. Ten times a day I answer the door too late to catch the evil little imp who would have a very red behind to show mommy if he/she did not run fast enough! Aaaargh!
So I thought someone from God's head office was doing an internship at the Times Of India when I saw this headline:

Alas, it WAS a typo. But think, how nice it would be if kids could be switched to hibernate mode for a couple of hours every day!

Update: They rang the bell today at 4pm, and I got a bad crick in my neck from getting up too suddenly! But later I overheard this conversation as I observed them from the peep hole:
Girl Aged 5: I am SICK of pizza
Boy Aged 3.5: I'm also SICK of pizza
Boy as much older than 2 as I am under it: I am thick of burger!

January 01, 2009

Slumdog Millionaire Jai Ho Lyrics & English Translation


(Music that makes you scratch your head and think of Baazi Lagaa from Guru, 00:28 seconds to be precise)

Jai Ho! ^n

Aaja aaja jind shamiyaane ke taley

Aaja zari waale neele aasmaane ke taley

Jai Ho! ^ n

Ratti ratti sachchi maine jaan gawayi hai

Nach Nach koylon pe raat bitaayi hai

Ankhiyon ki neend maine phoonkon se udaa di

Gin gin taarey maine ungli jalayi hai

Eh Aaja aaja jind shamiyaane ke taley

Aaja zari waale neele aasmaane ke taley

Baila! Baila!
(Dance! Dance!)

Ahora conmigo, tu baila para hoy
(Now with me, you dance for today)

Por nuestro dia de movidas,
(For our day of moves,)

los problemas los que sean
(whatever problems may be)


Baila! Baila!
(Dance! Dance!)

Jai Ho! ^n

Chakh le, haan chakh le, yeh raat shehed hai

Chakh le, haan rakh le,

Dil hai, dil aakhri hadd hai

Kaala kaala kaajal tera

Koi kaala jaadu hai na?

Aaja aaja jind shamiyaane ke taley

Aaja zari waale neele aasmaane ke taley

Jai Ho! ^ n

Kab se haan kab se jo lab pe ruki hai

Keh de, keh de, haan keh de

Ab aankh jhuki hai

Aisi aisi roshan aankhein

Roshan dono heerey (?) hain kya?

Aaja aaja jind shamiyaane ke taley

Aaja zari waale neele aasmaane ke taley

Jai Ho! ^ n

So this is my good deed of the day. The Rahman/Gulzar/Sukhwinder combination delivers again. Was frankly disappointed with Yuvvraaj lyrics; Tu hi to meri dost hai sounds like Gulzar sahib on an exceptionally bad day. Have bugged all the music shops in Bangalore asking them when the SM soundtrack is coming. Apparently it's being imported via a Mr Godot.

Update: Thanks JpnDude for the Spanish section! Below is a loose English translation that murders the original Hindi. Apologies to Gulzar Sahib. Hope to post a link here when I find a good translation online.

Jai Ho =Something between “Hail” and “Hallelujah”

Come, come my Life, under the canopy

Come under the blue brocade sky!

Iota by iota, I have lost my life, in faith

I’ve passed this night dancing on coals

I blew away the sleep that was in my eyes

I counted the stars till my finger burned

Come, come my Life, under the canopy

Come under the blue brocade sky!

Taste it, taste it, this night is honey

Taste it, and keep it,

It’s a heart; the heart is the final limit

You dark black kohl

It’s some black magic, isn’t it?

Come, come my Life, under the canopy

Come under the blue brocade sky!

For how long, how very long

It’s been on your lips

Say it, now say it

The eye is downcast

Such lit up eyes

Are they two lit-up dimaonds(?) ?

Come, come my Life, under the canopy

Come under the blue brocade sky!

This December… Forget Filmmaking…Remember Marketing

In all those stills, he's holding his head wondering HOW the heck he's gonna save SUCH a dabba film with publicity. Apparently, there IS a way to sell anything and everything.

Anyway, have written alternate lyrics for Guzaarish to keep myself busy:

Main Distinction Tu Pass Pass

Par Naukri tere paas paas

Tujhmein aisa kya khaas khaas?

Hai Sifaarish!!!!!!

Just give a call to chachaji

Zindagi jhoom ke hansegi

Moti honge moti raahon mein

Yeah yeah yeah!


I hit the New Year on the head with an iron rod. Hope you fare better!