VT’s blog

Yet another terrorist attack! Co-ordinated blasts in 3 UP cities kill 12. Harkat owns up

What can someone like me say, just a short message for the faceless planners and executers.

Bravo dudes! May the Lord grant your wish of achieving Paradise with such noble acts, may you get laid with all your 72 virgins. *

* Conditions Apply: All 72 of them will be 45 year old, sexually frustrated, drunken, ‘male’ virgins.

U make me sad. Very sad.

Generalizations are the easiest things to make. They are pretty useful too, as they help us in driving a point across. In this context, whenever any conversation or writing begins with "We Indians " or "In India "; I generally keep a fist-full of salt handy. Now, I don't understand if any such thing called an 'Indian culture' even exists.

Quite a few times we hear that "We Indians lack innovativeness, our 'culture' has been that of rote learning and we are all muggers, rattu-totas; that is why we "

Like everything else about India, the above statement is also TRUE. In fact anything that is said about India is always true; and that is the only truth.

Sample this:

·        *  India is a beautiful country. (true)

·        *  India is a dirty country; shit floats all around. (true)

·        *  India is a thriving democracy. (true)

·        *  Indian democracy is hogwash; it sucks. (true)

 So, basically there is enough horse-manure available to satisfy all schools of thoughts to say and get away with anything.

Speaking solely under the context of innovation, I think we are one of the most innovative people in the world. If only we had a few more labs and research facilities; I am sure we would be world beaters.

Simple, roadside innovations serve as meek and loud reminders.

Throughout the Norhtern rural landscape the bullock cart is fast becoming History. A new vehicle has replaced the bullock cart- it is called a Jugad. (see picture)

The word 'Jugad' in Hindi literally means 'a makeshift arrangement'. It is also the name of a vehicle made from water pumping sets (pumps which are meant for agricultural use). This vehicle has lots of space; it can be used to carry goods, farm produce, manure and a hell lot of people too. 25 to 30 people can travel on it- araam se. The Jugad makes a lot of financial sense. For a few thousand rupees, this is not a bad deal at all.

A Jugad is a simple innovation really; the Pump Set becomes the sturdy engine of the vehicle. Add a few add-ons: a steering wheel, break, accelerator and a body; and your village vehicle is ready. Jugad is also called 'Maruta' at certain places- to make it sound like a 'Macho Maruti'. They write a few funky messages on the Jugad and it's ready to hit the country road; you know messages like "Kirloskar ban gaya Maruta." Innovation, right?

Till about a decade back, the Harley Rickshaws used to run the Old Delhi area. Those were rickshaws converted from 2^nd World War era Harley Davidson motorbikes (picture). They finally had to be removed from Delhi roads because they were not too great with their emission standards. They were called phat-phatis till the time they ripped the road.

When it comes to large social gatherings (mainly in Gurudwaras), they have to blend hundreds of Kgs of curd to make lassi. No mixer/blender of that size is available anywhere. So, the innovative Desis use the Washing Machine as a lassi maker- it sure makes great lassi. If this ain't innovation, what is?

There are quite a few small and big innovations we see all around. To what end, doesn't really matter much; but they are innovations none the less. Like the other day I talked about the practice of converting Hero Honda motorbike engines into gensets. All Jugad Technologies.

Essentially, I think the main reason for these ‘makes shift innovations’ and jugad is that majority of Indians do not get really get everything on a platter. Even simple things like getting a ration card made, needs considerable effort. So, there is always a tendency to make the best use of whatever is available. What say?

One of the fun things about blogging is the occasional mails one gets: sometimes from regular bloggers, sometimes stray mails from god-knows-where. This is an advice someone asked for. Going by this gentleman's email ID, let me call him S. S writes, and I quote him, verbatim.

Teache me! How will I propose a girl whom I love? I will be very thank full to you.

Something tells me this mail was a prank. In any case, here is my reply:

Thank you friend, you have asked the right man. I happen to be the expert on this subject. Here is my Million Dollar advice. Simply go and ask the girl, "Madam, I want to do 'franship' with you."

I am sure it works. It is one of the coolest pick up lines ever.

Are you folks aware of a cooler way of proposing to a girl?

_________________________________________________________

The actual text (I have changed the sender's e-mail ID):

Thank you friend, you have asked the right man. I happen to be the expert on this subject. Here is my Million Dollar advice.  Simply go and ask the girl, "Madam, I want to do 'franship' with you." I am sure it works. It is one of the coolest pick up lines ever.

On Fri, 19 Oct 2007 s@yahoo.co.in wrote :
>
>Teache me! How will I propose a girl whom I love? I will be very thank full to you.

My friend Mathew is a Mallu who spent a lot of time in Mumbai. He shifted to Delhi about an year back (largely because of his Dilliwali wife) and he is trying his best to cope up! He says he is loving it: I am sure he loves it now because I noticed him speaking Hindi quite well and using words like aalu and pyaaz instead of batata and kanda.

One of the several things he is trying to cope up with is the Dilliwala's driving habits. He says he fails to understand the aggression and the love for speed. Given the fact the roads in Delhi are about a hundred times better than Mumbai, why the hell does Delhi still have so many accidents. The newspapers are agog with the 'killer Blueline bus' horror stories!

We talked about it the other day. I tried to give him the deeper (psychological) reasoning behind the relationship between the man and the machine, as understood ‘up North’. Mathew said he finds it hard to understand my 'Northie' reasoning.

This is what Mathew has written on his own blog. He has an iLand account too, but rarely blogs here. I reproduce this piece here.

Smart young software guy drives along a road in Noida. Attempts to pass a Scorpio. The Scorpio blocks his way. Four guys step out, smiling. They have to tell something to the software guy. Before he can say "Wha..?!" he is thrashed black and blue.

Cop vehicle comes by and stops right by them. As cops normally do in movies and less in real life, they jump out and grab the assailants. They seem only too willing, going with the cops with sweet smiles on their faces. At the police station, they explain that the car was trying to 'overtake' their Scorpio - so they obviously had to beat him up.

WTF?

No WTF, according to my Northie pal. He says we Mumbaikars and Southies won't get it. Cos in the North, and especially in Delhi, a car is not just a car. It is a person, an ex-pression of your ego in steel, it is a family member - and woe to he who dares slight his vehicle!

Now it makes sense. A person here gets into his car to tell the world who he is. See, I am a Ford Endeavour owner - look at the size of my SUV! Or, I have a Civic, an Amriki / Japani upmarket car - gimme respect!

When it is not offered to him, he gets pissed. And your life is in danger.

The same thing works for almost everyone. Wondered why the Delhi driver accelerates even when there is only barely 50 meters of road left in front of him? Because he wants you to see his gaddi roar, and stare in awe. He would brake hard- 'cos the squealing brakes will startle you, and you will adore his steed.

According to Northie pal, wives are embarrassed by hubbies who drive slowly. "Gaadi chala rahe ho ya rickshaw?" they would ask contemptuously and the insulted 'mard' would speed up and race around. Status is restored, and biwi is at peace.

And the blueline bus drivers. Look at the poor drivers. He is really poor - desperate, working hard - and his one source of pride is the big metal vehicle he commands. He gets rogered by the cops, the contractors, owners, and the owners of expensive cars on the streets.

And then the idiot two wheeler driver cuts across his lane. Hehehe. He will brake just a second later than safe - to scare the stupid rider out of his wits, and put him in his place. And sometimes the rider is stupider than he thought, and comes under his wheels. His mistake.

Noticed the writing on the blueline buses?

Matak Mat, Patak Doongi - Don't bump and shove, will flatten your arse.

Tau ki Fauj, Karegi Mauj - my uncle's army you fool, I will have my celebration.

And more perhaps some reader can add more to this.

(VT: Alabela Jaat. Awara Jaat. Gujjar ki Rani. Noida ki Princess ' all example of the 'pride' associated with vehicles. Vehicles are people. They have personalities. Arrogance is a personality trait, isn't it? No one understood Zen and the Art of M better than the Dilliwala.)

So got it, dude? Safety is for wimps - when cops enforce rules, not just the blueline driver, but entire Delhi complains in one voice, "namard bana diya yaar" (I have been made impotent!)

So don't mess with the studs and their steeds. Stay out, stay safe. After all, if you read this, you are likely to be a wimp like me!

(VT: Safety is for wimps, that is exactly what the average Dilliwala mard believes.)

'Self medication is not a great thing to do' is one of those facts we all know and seldom practice. A mild fever and headache has a universal cure- pop a pill of Crocin/Disprin/whatever.

A minor swelling in the eye prompted me to experiment with an eye drop which was lying some where in the cupboard. It was not meant for the purpose; and I had to suffer the consequences.

The effect of the eye drop was quick, my vision became blurred. I could not see anything which was nearer than 5 feet, which meant I could not read or use the computer. My far vision was perfect, which meant I could watch TV.

The doctor laughed at me and told me that I have no option but to suffer the consequences of my quack-giri for at least two days. It seems the eye drop I used was the one which they use just before an eye test and it is expected to blur the vision. What a sucker punch!

That made me incapable to doing anything worthwhile except watching TV at home for two dreadful days.

Staring at the idiot box the whole day can make a complete bheja fry of the brain and one tends to get into useless discussions with wifey.

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The other day, wifey got maha angry with me. They were showing TV promos of the new Shah Rukh Khan release: Om Shanti Om (OSO). It features a new-look SRK: complete with six-packs and all that. It seems he spent quite some time jumping around in gyms. Good show, I must say.

Wifey said, "Wow, look at him! Doesn't he look cool? I love the new'look; lean, mean, hungry SRK."

I said, "I am not sure about the first two, but he certainly looks damn hungry! A perfect 'mid life crisis' case study. He looks rather ghoulish, actually."

Now, that kind of a statement can actually cause a riot, depending on which side of SRK fan brigade you belong to. Wifey got offended because she is not exactly on my side.

Purely on the 'looks' issue, I think every actor has the best days- Big B looked the best in Silsila and Shakti, SRK perhaps looked the best in DDLJ and Chuck De! India. Who cares about acting prowess anyways; great stars and great acting seldom go together.

Whatever. The fact remains that I compared the new-look SRK to a ghoul and almost got killed in the process. However I learnt one thing- women do have a way with hero worship.

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One of the things I really enjoy is nonsense verse. Sukumar Ray wrote some brilliant stuff in Bengali. Ogden Nash was great.

Bollywood music has its own share of some really cool songs which made very good use of nonsense verse. Old Kishore Kumar songs like 'Ina Mina Dika' and a few Gulzar songs with lyrics like 'Chappa Chappa Charkha Chale'. Nice, happy phonetic effect.

Some lyrics are neither nonsense verse nor do they make too much sense. It is these lyrics that kill me. It is equally amazing to notice that they were written by some really great poets.

For instance, the poet (was it Kaifi Azmi?) wrote a song in the early 1990s movie "Phir Teri Kahani Yaad Aayee". The song was 'Aane wala kale ek sapna hai.." [The future/tomorrow is just a dream]. It had a line which went like this, "Yaadon ke sab jugnu jangal me rahte hain." [All the fireflies of my memories live in the jungle (!!!)]. Will someone please explain what is that line supposed to mean?

Talking of the SRK movie, OSO, it has an interesting song too. What intrigues me is the lyric. It says 'Dard-e-Disco'!

Now, Dard-e-Dil, Dard-e-Jigar etc are normal ex-pressions. Both these ex-pressions basically mean 'heartache' and are used (poetically) to connote the pain that necessarily accompanies love (of the unrequitted variety). The 'requitted' lovers often get married. They get into arguments over useless topics like SRK and stuff. Their only dard in life has to do with bijli-paani bills.

Getting into more literal details will kill all the romance actually. Literally, 'dil' means 'heart' and 'jigar' means 'liver'. Now, dard-e-jigar (pain in the liver) can get quite sickening and remind of hepatitis and all. I guess, poetic justice takes care of all those technicalities.

Coming back to the lyrics, lyrically, Dard-e-Disco is as bankrupt as one can get. Disco-ache! I guess they use the word dard to connote 'craving' here, still it sucks. Craving for Disco. Wow! Even the song writer Javed Akhtar agrees that he was 'asked to write dumb lyrics'. Phew!

I am not sure how much pain exists in a disco and how much pain people take to visit a disco. About a dozen trips to discos have not shown me too many things that have too much to do with pain, apart from the occasional pain that the bouncers inflict. Who cares about lyrics anyways?

The music surely is catchy enough and I think it will do well. A sure shot HIT!

Dear friends,

Kush has tagged me to share this with you. Please help in spreading the good word.

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हाय फोक्स,

हाउ इस इट फायरिंग? आई एम बॅक! ब्लडी बिग डील!!

दिस न्यू कूल फीचर इस नॉट कूल एनफ़. मल्टी लिंगो इस समथिंग ग्रेट, बट इट स्टिल हॅज़ क्वाइट आ फ्यू माइल्स टू गो बिफोर इट बिकम्स दि फॅक्टो कूल स्टफ. टिल देन आई विल ट्राई टू स्टिक टू दा स्क्रूड अप रोमन स्क्रिप्ट.

आई विल रीड आल युवर पोस्ट्स आई हॅव मिस्ड. आफ्टर डॅट आई विल पोस्ट माई क्रॅप.

युवर गुड फ्रेंड,

वी टी.

Someone said that Caesar always talked about himself in the third person. Hum kisi se kum hain kya?

The picture is a self portrait of VT. Here, he is seen enjoying himself, guzzling beer in the company of his friends, complete with Dil-wala-kachcha and all that. His friends happen to be of the rodent variety- rats attract rats, you know. They lick spilled beer and feel suitably happy doing so.

These days VT is a bit jacked. You know, stuff like work and all. Also, some good old riff-raffing has been pending for quite a while. A much fancied Bharat Bhraman is due too. So he has decided to be off this iLand for some time.

At the moment, he is not able to say for how long. But he is sure the period of his absence will be shorter than most of you would like it to be.

I'll be back! I'll be Beethoven too. (Kya faltu PJ hai, na?)

The other day I made a trip to Janpath, the Fashion Street of Delhi. The garment sellers on that street surely have innovative ways of attracting customers. We hear sounds like:

35, 35, 35, 35

Le lo. 35

Loot lo. 35

35, 35

Aao ji, 35.

Sir ji, 35. Madam ji, 35

35, 35

Loot lo. 35

Lut gaya, 35

35, 35, 35, 35

Now, 35- thirty five- is paintees in Hindi. The Dilliwala Panju version of pronouncing paintees is paintee. It rhymes with panty. So the effect sounds something like Le Lo Panty, Loot Lo Panty.

By the way, that is some guy selling t-shirts that cost 35 bucks.

Salesmanship is not an easy thing to do- street hawkers and pavement salesmen know this better than anyone else. After all they need to grab attention in a place where the attention span is a little less than 5 seconds.

Even when it comes to selling something which claims to heal the weakest of the weak 'points' among men, it takes innovation.

We all know what a man fears the most. It is not death, loss of wealth, loss the near and dear ones. Well, of course they are important, but what a man fears the MOST is the probable loss of libido. The loss of his almighty virility. The fear of becoming impotent.

As a result, we have all kinds of 'sex clinics' and pavement shops peddling exotic looking stuff which promise eternal youth and virility. Ayurvedic/Yunani Dawakhanas which operate from tents and quacks who claim to heal dreaded diseases like premature ejaculation, loss of desire etc call the shots.

These 'sexologists' claim to cure a hell lot of 'gupt rog'. A gupt rog is any disease related to the excretory and reproductive organs. You know stuff like bawasir (piles), phissar (anal fissures), sheeghra patan (premature ejaculation) and other such problems. Funnily, most people do not visit regular doctors when they develop such health issues, they prefer these 'sexologists' and quacks.

So the street side medicos rock when it comes to gupt rog and aphrodisiac business.

The one who does it best is a guy near the Red Fort in saddi Dilli. He sells aphrodisiacs. One such aphrodisiac is an interesting 'oil' called sande ka tel. I think sande ka tel is extracted from a type of a lizard that might as well figure in the ecologists' endangered species list. No one seems to know if sande ka tel really works. May be, 'beliefs' go a long way in curing these issues, because many of these problems are mental rather than physical.

By the way, I love the way this guy goes about his constant rhythmic chants praising the magical effects that sande ka tel has. After all SIZE DOES MATTER, doesn't it?  He chants:

Aaj Lagaao, lamba hoga. Kal lagaao, khamba hoga.

A translation would sound something like, "Massage today, for a long one. Massage tomorrow for a 'pole'." (Yikes! Bad translations are such killjoys.)

Picture Courtesy: An old e-mail forward.

Since I do not have the recorded version of the hawker's cants, I am posting a picture which shows a beer shop somewhere in the Hindi Heartland. I think he wants to sell Chilled Beer. These typos, I tell ya!

Now that India has been rinsed itself clean of crimes like murder, extortion, rape, vandalism, theft, ghooskhori, robbery et cetera; we need to clean the last traces of dirt that exist in our country. We need to make sure everyone has their 'moral fibre' taut.

A step in that direction has been taken by the honourable minister of Information and Broadcasting, first by banning a few programs in foreign channels like AXN and all, and subsequently a couple of undergarment advertisements on TV.

It makes perfect sense, really.

After all, we fancy ourselves as the most moral, spiritual and ethical culture in the whole goddamn universe. Don't we?

And of course, we are the world champs in the sport of screwing. We make babies like no one else. But, heck, when it comes to talking about sex, or worse, showing something sexually suggestive on TV, we are the first to put our prude caps on.

The vulgar underwear advertisements have been banned by the almighty ministry of I&B, under the able guidance of a certain Mr. Dashmunshi. This dude happens to hold some top position in the Indian Soccer Federation too ' and we all know we are already the world champs in soccer.  Our soccer infrastructure rocks! We are in safe hands, for sure.

Coming back to the Amul Macho and Lux Cozy underwear ads- boy, are they vulgar! Toba toba. Sarwanaash ho! Keede Padain.

Imagine, a young (presumably married too) woman goes to a Dhobi Ghat and washes her husband's underwear and seems to enjoy the act. Obscene, isn't it? If this not vulgar, what is?

Now that those advertisements are banned, the I&B ministry has guaranteed that no Indian will ever become a paedophile, a rapist or a pervert. This sure is a sure-shot prescription that guarantees great moral fibre. A positive step to prevent us from being swayed by the evil influences of the decadent West.

No one can accuse us of having a sense of humour when it comes to matters related to sex.

Incidentally, this is not a one-off incident. Our local authorities, political parties and law enforcers have specialized in the fine art of moral policing. Sample this:

·        I always thought PDA was an electronic gadget. Now I know it has a separate and cool meaning too. PDA stands for 'Public Display of Affection'. Toba Toba. Horrible! How can our oh-so-Holy land do such an obnoxious thing! Again a certain well meanings cops in Mumbai cracked down on lovers and roughed them, so that their next seven generations will not even think about displaying love. Holding hands in public? What a shame! Necking and kissing in public? Death penalty!

·        A certain politician in Maharastra wanted to clean up all the garbage in Mumbai and decided the best way to do so is by closing the once famous Mumbai Dance Bars. The logic is simple; the rich folks can visit Thailand and Europe to fulfil their desires of savouring the naach (dance). As for the hoi polloi, they don't matter anyways! Of course, the frustrated ones can visit Kamathipura and get AIDS. The state needs to make sure everyone has their 'moral values' intact. The real, physical garbage stinks in the city, but that is not the point at all. What's the big deal with polythene chocking the drains and the occasional floods, as long as the citizens don't indulge in PDA!

·        One woman in Mumbai has made a career out of filing frivolous PILs asking for a ban on a whole lot of English TV channels she thinks are vulgar.

·        UP police has given up all hopes of catching the bahubalis, mafia and criminals who call the shots in the Gangetic belt. These cops are more interested in cleaning up the society and they had a great time beating up lovers sitting and coochie cooing in a Public Park in Meerut.

·        Recently, a boy, a DU student was beaten up black and blue by the cops in Noida because he committed a horrible crime. He had dropped a female friend home and parked his bike outside the girl's home and was chatting with her, at 7 PM! Now, that is obscene, indecent and vulgar, isn't it?

Of course all the moral policing is applicable only to the hoi polloi, the 'aam aadmi'. The common man doesn't have any right to have fun.  Only spoiled brats of politicians and 'influential' folks have to right to go around doing all kind of cool things like killing pavement dwellers, beating up hotel managers and shooting girls in pubs.

Whoever said "Everybody loves a Lover" had never visited my Holy Country. We not only hate lovers, we kick their balls and butts whenever we get a chance. And yes, we hate PDA.

Meanwhile, let me propose the Government a new Law. Let crimes like murder, rape, paedophilia, kidnapping, robbery etc. be considered 'petty crimes'.

Of course, PDA will be considered a hideous crime and those who indulge in it shall be hanged till death.