Archive for August, 2009

I am not a movie buff

August 29th, 2009

I am a Marwadi. Everyone knows Marwadis are kanjoos and I am doing my best to keep the reputation intact. Initially I felt the Marwadi dictum of being frugal was a burden but with time I have found that being thrifty is what makes us special.

Every Marwadi strictly follows the Marwadi dictum of saving every penny that he can and then blows away all his saving during marriages. I have tried to follow this Marwadi dictum and found that girls don’t like guys who ask them pay for their coffee.

It has been months I have seen a movie in multiplex because I am unable to find anyone who would pay for my ticket. Few days back, four guys in the office decided to pool money to take me to a movie. They did so because the movie had got some good reviews and they felt that the Marwadi in me will stop lecturing them on the virtues of saving money for a while after watching the great Marathi movie.

The five of us took our seats as the picture started rolling. Suddenly the guy sitting next to me started laughing. Then the other three guys joined him. I thought that that I may have missed the joke because I was too busy sipping my pepsi. I asked the guy sitting to my left to explain the joke to me.

The guy explained me the joke and I had a good laugh. Few minutes later the guys again laughed. I requested to the guy sitting to my left to explain the joke to me. He explained the joke to me and I had a good laugh. Few minutes later, the guys again laughed and I asked the guy sitting to my left to explain me the joke. The guy sitting on my left replied,” My Hindi is not good. I cannot explain you this joke.”

With the guy sitting to my left demonstrating his inaptness in our national language I turned to the guy sitting to my right. I asked him to explain the joke to me and he replied,”Shh……Its bad manners to talk during movies.”

As we took out the car, the guys asked me whether I liked the movie. I told that I enjoyed the movie but it could have been better if I would have understood any of the dialogues. There was a bewildered look at their faces and then one of the guys asked,” Why did you joined us when you don’t understand Marathi?” I told them,” Because you guys paid for my ticket.”

My Marathi movie experience made me realise that I don’t hate going to multiplex because I am a Kanjoos Marwadi. I hate to go to multiplex because I love to watch movies on my laptop.

The love my laptop because it allows me to watch movies whenever I want.  On the other hand, the multiplex makes me treat it like my boss. I have to plan my day according to its schedule.

I love watching movies on my laptop because it makes me feel special. It knows that I cannot endure romantic scenes and hence it allows me to fast fastword the movie to the car chase.

The laptop has a pause button because it knows that the man is social animal and hence, he has to communicate. In multiplex people glare at me when I shout at my mobile, “I can’t hear you because it’s too noisy here”.

The laptop know that I am a Marwadi. I abhor to waste money. Hence, unlike multiplex it allows me to watch movies so cheaply that I don’t feel guilty when I doze off while watching movies.

And here is the best reason due to which I love to watch movies on my laptop instead of multiplex – I don’t have to get dressed because I have to watch a movie.

To sum up

The Marwadi dictum says that everyone loves his own creation. God created man. God loves man. Man created money.  Hence, he loves money more than his Creator.

Pardon me. I have a datacard.

August 26th, 2009

A man who has seen the best and the worst of the times is either revered or considered insane by his friends. I am only one who has experienced the best and worst of the times and is detested by his friends.

I have seen the best times during my graduation days. During my graduation, I thought I was a cool guy because I used to forward spam mails to my friends and they used to reply by sending me chain mails. After graduation, I moved to Pune and found that this city considers bachelors as cash cows and milks them until they give up and get married.

After moving to Pune, I applied to several ISPs for a broadband connection. They all threw my application in the dustbin and assured me that I will be able to enjoy their best services after six months. I told them that I was not planning to get married within next six months and they told me that I will enjoy their best services even if it took them more than six months to lay the cable in my locality.

Down with ISPs I decided to buy a datacard. This was beginning of the worst times. The broadband connection had made me impatient. I used to type google in my address bar and expected it to open instantly. Now it takes me about a minute to open the google home page and sometimes after one minute, Firefox tells that I am dumb enough to misspell google because it has been unable to find any site named google.

The datacard believes that a man can find true happiness only within himself. He does have to depend upon others for making him happy. This philosophy of datacard has ensured that several of my pals have crossed me off their friendlist. They left me scraps that I never checked because it took more than five minutes for the home page of Orkut to load. Then it took another five minutes for me to log in and then another five minutes for the scraps page to load. During this time, I am pulling my hairs and to avoid hair loss I decided to abandon Orkut.

The next casualty was chatting. It was easy. It took me more than ten minutes to log in and my reply always reached the other person by the time he had asked me,” U der” at least a couple times. Fed with the noise of buzz and people asking me to respond faster, I decided to quit chatting.

The only good thing that the datacard did to me was that it has made me gregarious. It takes me about two minutes of log into my email account. After that, it takes more than five minutes to open an email. Once the email is opened, I type my response and press send. The datacard sometimes feels that I am spending too much time playing email-email and hence instead of showing the message ‘The mail has been successfully send’, it shows a blank page with ‘Done’ written at the status bar.

I have always considered this as sign that the email has been successfully delivered to the other person’s mailbox. Sometime this does not happen and I receive mails telling me that they are shocked because of the way I have ignored them and they don’t think they call me friend anymore.

I have decided to come up a novel solution to fix this problem. Now whenever I receive a mail instead of checking the mail I call the sender. Initially several of my friends where surprised because I was calling them to reply for two lines long mail. We both used to have a good laugh while I used to explain him the reason for the call and he used to make a mental note never to send me a mail again.

This policy has freed me of the urge to check my mail account daily. Everyone who considers me as a friend either calls me or drops me an sms. Those who do not consider me as friend do not call me, drop me sms or send me mail. This has ensured that I am able to know who are my real friends and who are not.

To sum up

The easiest way to avoid a person and still being his friend is to send him mails telling him that you miss him.

FYI – It has been one of those days of my life, everyday this week

August 22nd, 2009

The last week was quite a happening week for me. I got back pain, didn’t wish the person in the next cubicle on her birthday and received negative feedback for an upgrade that my team had done.

The back pain started on Monday. I went to the doc, took his prescription and found that money can buy you medicine but not cure. With medicine being unable to treat my back pain, I have decided to graciously accept the back pain as a gift from office. Others may get bonuses for hard work but I get back pain. My next goal is work hard enough to demand a neck pain during my next appraisal.

On Thursday, I came to know that the person sitting next to my cubicle has her birthday when I overheard one of the colleagues wishing her birthday. I rose from my cubicle to wish her birthday but I heard the birthday girl say that it was her birthday according to the Marathi calendar. Since I don’t follow Marathi calendar I decided not to wish her.

However, some people are so aloof about the things happening in the cubicle next to them that they kept intruding her cubicle to wish her birthday. In reply, the birthday girl accepted their wishes and informed them that her birthday according to Gregorian calendar was tomorrow.

With this vital information I decided to become the first person in office to wish birthday to the to- be-birthday-girl. The next day as soon as she came into her cubicle, I rose from my cubicle to wish her birthday. However, I found another colleague was wishing her birthday according to the Gregorian calendar. I went back to work and rose after fifteen minutes to wish her birthday. I wished her birthday, she said thanks to me and that was the end of conversation.

On Friday, my boss forwarded an email that was forwarded to him by the CEO with the subject FYI. I read the mail and found that the mail was originally written by someone whom the CEO had requested to review a product that was upgraded by my team. The review said that our product was not good enough to suffice the needs of the customer.

The email infuriated the team leader so much that he decided to hold an urgent meeting. However, in our organisation a meeting room must be booked in advance to hold a meeting. Since he wanted immediately to hold a meeting, we decided to assemble on the terrace.

At terrace, we all talked for fifteen minutes about the hard work we all had done to upgrade the product. The team leader impatiently listened to us and declared that the review was rubbish because there was consensus among us that we all had hard worked on the project. He then asked me to call the VP (Production) upstairs.

I went downstairs and requested the VP to come upstairs to attest the team leader’s declaration. The VP came upstairs and told us there was nothing to get so much excited. He had already replied to the CEO. In his email, he had asked which product was given to the reviewer – the original or the upgrade.

I came back home and the decided to review my week. The review depressed me so much that I wished I was ostrich. This would have allowed me to bury my head in ground until all my problems would have been solved. Since I am not an ostrich but love his problem solving skills, I decided to bury my problems by sleeping as soon as I reached home.

To sum up

It is said that we grow by solving problems. If you wish to remain young forever then learn to run away from your problems

Every cloud has a silver lining

August 20th, 2009

I am suffering from terrible back pain for the last few days. I am unable to sit comfortably on my chair in office. This has motivated me to do something that I always wanted to do. Nowadays I am leaving office as soon as my eight hours are over.

I reach home and straightway hit the bed. Its not that I am feeling sleepy but my back pain does not allows me to sit even on the chair at my home. This is a new experience for me. Until now, I used to think that the only thing that I could do in bed was to sleep or cry. But now while crying with back pain and awake, I have found several new uses of my bed.

The first use I have discovered is that I can read in bed. Until now, I used to carry a book to the bed and fall asleep within minutes. But thanks to my back pain, I am now able to read novels in bed. My next goal is to read my emails in the bed. However, this looks like a distant dream because it will take me few decades to become a part of the senior management.

Since I don’t receive any urgent emails that I need to reply from my bed, I have decided to update my blog from my bed. I thought this was a great idea. I open my laptop, update my blog, close my laptop and go to sleep. This was good plan until I decided to implement it.

Today I opened a new word document to update my blog. I looked at the blank document and found him teasing me. I found it really creepy. To avoid him I decided to minimise it. As soon as I did it, I found the wallpaper staring at me. This really spooked me.

This had never happened with me. I had always opened the word document and updated my blog. It never occurred to me that one day I will have no ideas to write. I tried to think about any incident or accident from work that could be worth mentioning in my blog but eight hours of dedicated work had deprived me of the opportunity of poke my nose in other’s people business.

I thought deeply about the things that were happening in life. This self-introspection led me to make a new discovery about myself. I discovered that now in bed, it was not books but staring at wallpaper that made me feel sleepy.

To sum up

I hate to update my blog when I am feeling sleepy. I prefer to stay awake and write long monologues so that I can become the ultimate bore.

Not a romantic guy

August 19th, 2009

I am not what people consider as a boyfriend material. I am not rich, handsome, cute or gay. My friends are so confident of my ability to put off every girl I meet that they never introduce me to any girl who is single. I am unable to come up with any reasonable explanation for their behaviour. After all, there is no way we will be ever going out.

It’s not that I have given up. As a single guy I don’t have a luxury to say ‘I quit’ only because my personality acts as a handicap. This has made me go out with girls who are so cool that no one in their friend circle will question their coolness quotient even if they are seen with a dork. These girls took an exception, spend some time with me and found that sticking with norms does have certain benefits.

My love life has made me cynical because it always moves in a cycle. We both meet through a common friend, then we meet without the common friend, then we realise that meeting with or without a common friend is a huge mistake and then we decide never to meet. The problem arises when one of us tell the common friend that he/she has suddenly started ignoring him/her.

During my teen years I used to tell the common friend that he needs to do something. The common friend always replied that she has already told him to tell me that nothing can be done. I used to take this as a sign that I out of a horrible relationship. Unfortunately, in my last relationship I was not the person who asked this question.

This has made me uncomfortable. It is far more easy to tell a friend that you don’t like her than to tell her in person. I have tried doing it few times, succeeded once and realised that ignoring her calls are much better option. First you don’t to have reconcile her and second she is always happy because she is one who is dumping you.

I told my last ex that that we both are no more together because she forced me to say so. Our relationship was like a perfect love story. We both went out until we realised that the only thing we had in common is common friends. This made me realise that if I wished her to be happy then I had to make her dump me. So after a big fight I stopped taking her calls.

Things went pretty smooth for fifteen days or so and then I bumped into her and her two friends in café coffee day. The sight of her alone was good enough to scare me but her accompanying friends made me wish to jump in the cup and disappear. The three straightway walked up to me and took seats. Talk about poor manners, they didn’t even asked me whether the seats were occupied or not.

As they ordered coffee, my ex remembered that she had to make an urgent call. As soon as she left, one of her friend asked,” What happened?” There were several ways to tell her that it was none of her business. However, she was a common friend. This meant she was going to play a big role in making my ex dump me. I told her that nothing had happened. The second friend asked,” Then why are you doing this to her.”

I asked her back,” What do you mean?” She replied that she knew everything. I told her that she does not know everything because she has heard only one side of the story. Before anyone of them could say anything, my ex came back. There was silence. The silence continued until we finished our coffee, paid bill and went into the parking.

As I took out my bike, my ex whispered to me,” I don’t care about you because you don’t deserve me. You will be never find anyone like me ever.” This is the worst things one can say at a break up. There were a thousand ways to tell her that she was not Britney Spears but all I could tell her was,” This is exactly what I wish. I am not breaking up  with you because I like you. I am breaking up with you because I don’t like you.”

This was terribly reply and I still regret it. However, when someone tells you in person and not through a common friend that she does not like you then you have every right to tell her the same.

To sum up

Break ups hurt but they are not terrible. They save you from spending time with a terrible person who hurts you.

Health is wealth

August 17th, 2009

I have been in a very bad mood for the last few days. Everyday I moan and whine while doing my work. The worst part is that I am unable to blame the management for my misery because I am suffering from terrible back pain.

Yesterday I decided to google for some yoga exercises to strengthen my back muscles. I thought it was a cool way to subside my back pain and restart moaning and whining about the management. I did the yoga exercises and immediately felt the effect. I felt my back was cracking up.

I rubbed my back and felt the pain increasing. Thanks to yoga, I was moaning even when I was not sitting in a chair. I decided to rub moov, zandu balm and tiger balm on my back. The triple coat of ointments made my back burn. Until yesterday, I had back pain but now I had back burning pains.

I decided to take my mind off the pain by watching a movie. I started watching Jashnn. The movie was so good that I forget about my pain because I fell asleep. I woke up in the evening and felt that my back was angry with me.

He was living a pretty lazy life doing nothing. He felt that I was behaving like management by suddenly subjecting him to military drills. He decided to tender his resignation and there by making me spineless.

I decided to take a doctor’s advice on this matter. However, it was Sunday evening. This meant I had to spend one whole night before I could see the doctor. I thought about watching the remaining part of Jashnn but couldn’t dare to. I already had back pain and didn’t wanted my mind to have any. So I decided to put myself through sleep by reading comics.

On Monday, I went to the hospital. The lady at the reception asked my ailment and then my name. I gave her the information. She then asked me my age and surname. I told her, “25 Totla.” She asked me to spell it.

I was shocked but decided to spell it. I told her the spelling of twenty-five. It was now her turn to be shocked. She asked me,” Can you spell your surname?” I told her,” Yes I can. It’s T-O-T-L-A.” She gave me my card and collected Rs 80 as fees.

The doctor inquired about my back pain and told me to lie down on a bed. He pressed my backbone and asked,” Does it hurts here?”

I told him,” No”
He moved his hand down and pressed again and I said “Yes.”
He moved his hand further down and pressed and I said “Yes.”
He moved his hand further down and pressed and I said,” Will you please stop doing it?”
The doctor asked me whether was uncomfortable. I told him,” Yes. It hurts terribly.” He asked me to come back to his desk. He then asked me some routine questions.

“Are you into body building?”
“Do you lift weights?”
“You don’t exercise at all.”
“No…err Yes.”
“Then how come you have such a terrible back pain.”
“Because I did yoga.”

He understood the reason behind my visit, gave me prescription and told,” It is nothing serious. I am prescribing you medicines for five days. It pain does not reduces then we will need to take an x-ray.”

I thanked him and went to the pharmacy in the hospital. The girl at the counter took the prescription, read it, looked me at me and looked again at the prescription. She gave the prescription to another colleague. Her colleague looked at the prescription, then looked at me and then again looked at the prescription. The first girl said something to the second girl and then they both disappeared in the room next to the pharmacy.

Their behaviour made me suspicious. If there was nothing serious then why did the doc said that I might have to come back after five days for an x-ray? Before I could find an answer to the question, the two girls emerged from the room and came to the counter.

The first girl put my medicines in a brown bag and asked,” Is your surname really Totla?” I said,” Yes” and thanked God. There was nothing wrong with me. It was not my disease but my surname that these girls found intriguing.

I took out a Rs 100 note from my pocket and asked her how much was the bill. She told me Rs 527. I told her to recheck the prescription. The doc had given me prescription for five and not fifty days. She replied,” Yes Totlaji. The cost of five days prescription is Rs 527.” I gave her the money and walked out of the hospital.

I reached home and took a close look at the medicine bill. It made me realised that I did not had any information about the timing of my doses, their quantity or the name of my ailment.

To sum up

Medicine bills are the proof that health is wealth.

I have changed

August 16th, 2009

With time people change, so have I. Few years back I used to roam the streets of Pune wearing a dirty jeans and squandering my father’s wealth. Nowadays I do the same while squandering my own money.

Few years back I used to wear dirty jeans to look cool. Nowadays I wear dirty jeans because I don’t have time to look cool.

Few years back I used to read only the sports section of the newspaper. Nowadays I read only the business section of the newspaper.

Few years back I used to go mall so that I have fun. Nowadays I go to the mall to buy groceries.

Few years back I used go to movies to kill time. Nowadays I don’t have time to go to movies.

Few years back I used to get up after every six months praying to God to pass me. Nowadays I get up everyday praying to God for not failing my project.

Few years back I used to think that I would get a job and be happy. Nowadays I am happy to have a job.

Few years back I used to study so that I would become someone. Nowadays I work so that I don’t become anyone.

Few years back I wanted to get filthy rich. Nowadays I want to get rich so that I won’t be filthy.

Few years back I never used to think about my future. Nowadays I don’t think about my future because I don’t have any.

To sum up

Few years back I had dreams. Nowadays I have nightmares.

Like boss, like subordinate

August 14th, 2009

Today I received an email from my boss. The email told me that he is leaving at four pm today. I decided to reply the email by asking him the reason for giving me this information. The only person whose office hours I am concerned is me. I don’t care when he leaves as long as I am able to shut down my comp after my eight hours of work.

I thought my boss might have made a mistake. He might have goofed up with the email address and instead of the CXOs he may have send an email to me. I checked the email address of CXOs and found the difference between my name and their name was as big as our pay.

This meant that my boss had purposefully sent the email to me. He wanted to know whether it was OK for him to leave at four. I thought this was my only chance. I should write him a lengthy email that explained him the importance of dedication to work.

I have spent enough time in the organisation to know the art of sugarcoating a bitter pill. I decided to start my email with an inspiring quote. Before I googled, I decided to carefully read the email. After all sugarcoat is just a layer. I needed material for the bitter pill.

I read the email thoroughly. It revealed that that my boss had send the email at the team id. This meant he wanted the team to know that he was leaving at four. He had sent us the information so that we will concentrate on our work after four and not gossip about the secret management meeting that he was attending.

I deleted the email, closed my mozilla and started working again. At 6:30, I knew my eight hours were complete. The project on which I am working is two days behind schedule. This meant I needed to give myself a lecture on dedication to work. I thought about asking for an inspiring quote from my boss. But he was not in office. So I closed my comp and logged out of office.

To sum up

Always sugarcoat your reply. It allows you to prove that receiver is stupid enough to misinterpret even your simplest suggestions.

Two choices

August 14th, 2009

I am blogging for the last few months. I didn’t started blogging because I needed a platform to express myself. I started blogging because it offered me a chance to prove Mrs Gonsalvis wrong.

I know you are thinking what I will get by proving that wife of Anthony Gonsalvis is wrong. Actually, I don’t have anything against the Anthony Gonsalvis’s wife. I hold a grudge against Mrs Gonsalvis who taught me English in the fourth grade.

In the mid-term of my fourth grade, Mrs Gonsalvis asked the class to write an essay. It was not one of the four essays that I had crammed for the exam. With fifteen out of fifty marks at stake, yours truly wrote his first blog. It was a rib-tickling, comical and long enough to fill two pages.

Few days later Mrs Gonsalvis distributed our marked sheets in the class. She didn’t call my roll number to collect my answer sheet. I went to her desk and informed her that she had not called my roll number. She asked my roll number and told me go back to my desk.

As I reached my desk, I heard Mrs Gonsalvis reading the first para of my essay. The class was laughing and I smiled at her. She asked me did I considered mid term exams as joke. Before I could answer, she told the class that guys like me are a shame to the good school in which they were studying.

She then proceeded to read my whole essay. After every para, she explained the class my grammatical mistakes and cursed god for sending a disgusting creature like me in her class. As I stood shocked, she threw my answer sheet on the floor and asked me to collect it.

As I collected the sheet, she told me that I was the worst student she ever had. My manners were uncouth and my attitude towards studies was horrible. As I picked my sheet, she told me stop wasting my parents money. I thought that was enough for day but as I sat on my desk she informed the class that my English was poor and it will never improve. She then added that it was ok because I didn’t needed much English in my life. After all, how much English does a driver or sabjiwala needs.

Mrs Gonsalvis that day did not killed the blogger in me but she did made me the laughing stock of the class. I changed the school after the final exams but the scars given by her have not yet healed. That day Mrs Gonsalvis ensured that English would remain one of my weak points throughout my life.

Today my team leader told me that I needed to improve my English. He told me that good English was essential to move up in an MNC. He asked me to identify specific areas where I needed to improve my English. I thought about forwarding the link of my blog to him. However, my blogs contain enough grammatical and spelling mistakes that it could have made him wonder why am working with him not as his driver or sabjiwala.

I came back to my seat and thought about the areas in which I needed help. English is a second language for me, I never did any grammar exercise since the fourth grade and it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks. I came home and went through my blogs to make prepare a list of the topics on which I needed help. After reading few blogs, I discovered the biggest flaw in my language. I realised that to improve my English, I needed to stop being funny.

To sum up

I have two choices. I can be funny or I can improve my English. Choosing the second option would prove make the management happy. Hence, I have chosen the first option. I hope you don’t mind it.

Wishing you all the best for the future

August 10th, 2009

Every organisation has certain traditions to which every employee has to adhere. In our organisation, an employee has to accept a collage on his last day in office. The collage is supposed to make the employee remember how much fun he had working with us. I am sure whenever he looks at the collage at home he wonders, “When did I had fun on this job?”

Today I came to know that a collage was being prepared for one of my colleagues. I didn’t knew much about the chap. The reason being he works in marketing and I work in the production. He works on the ground floor and I on the second floor. Our only interaction is during the morning and evening tea breaks on the terrace where we both jam every weekday to whine about the lunacy that drives our organisation.

One of my colleague told me about the desk where the collage was to be given to the new ex-employee. I decided to write something special on the collage. I thought about the various moments we both had shared and realised that I would receive my collage tomorrow if anyone from the management read it.

This brought me to the big question what will be my parting words to my friend. Since I was unable to think of anything that would make him think about the fun we both had without receiving my collage, I decided to google for wishes that one gives during the farewell.

I googled for wishes on resignation and Google returned my query by giving me results on how to draft resignation letter. I changed the words and asked Google for wishes to be given to someone who is quitting. Google returned my query with results on inspiring quotes on not being a quitter.

With Google’s failure to provide me with resignation wishes, I decided to write something original on my friends collage. I decided to write something that truly beloved to me and only me. I picked my friend’s collage and wrote my signature on it. I knew whenever he would look at the collage, my sign will make smile more than the paras written by those who gave him hell during his tenure.

I saw him during the evening tea break. We both smiled at each other. We both had spent enough time in the organisation to know that this may be the last time we both would be meeting. I thought about acting like an ideal employee by shaking his hand and telling him,” Wishing you all the best for the future.” However, it would have not gone well with my image. So I hugged him and told ,” Congrats.”

To sum up

It takes more than six sense to realise that the reason behind the widest smile possible on your colleague’s face is that he has quit for greener pastures.

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