Here’s a study into the kind of species found being transported in Delhi’s indigenous tube. This study has seen the light of the day after years of eavesdropping and diligent invigilation into the privacy of PDA victims. Here are the 10 most common and interesting passenger types-
1)The lost soul: Usually found resting his arse near the gate. Has a deep philosophical look in the eye. If in mood, you can catch him playing his non-existent guitar or practicing a few jazz steps. 50% probability of wearing plug-ins.
2)The couple in Lowwe: Can’t keep eyes/hands off each other. Efficient travellers as they occupy less square inch due to absence of space between them. Often heard planning holy trips to Goa/Shimla/Manali. Stared and disapproved by old frustrated uncles, who are stared back in return. Their conversations will comprise of a lot of ‘tum’, ‘hum’, ‘shadi’, ‘bache’, ‘bhaiya’, ‘bhabi’, ‘pyar’, ‘mohabbat’. Basically they are a replica of Sooraj Barjatiya’s lead couples, plus the pre-marital sex and minus the good-looks.
3)The snoozing uncles: This is the type I despise most. They are the firm believers of ‘power nap’. They will somehow always find a place to sit, give their kilometre long tummy a nice rub and doze off in no time. Have the ability to sleep while sitting on one ass. Usually have practised the art of mind alarms. 10% probability of missing their stops and waking up with a Harman Baweja expression, (read) expressionless.
4)The adjusting aunties: No matter if there are hundreds of zombie looking passengers standing since time immemorial, this type has the first right to sit. She will aim for the 10 centimetre gab between you and person sitting next and will authoritatively ask you to ‘adjust’. Your reflexes would fail you as the flesh of her bum will cushion your left thigh in pain. She will give you a victorious smile and then mobile ‘chintu’ to buy besan from the kirana shop.
5)Mr know all: He boasts of a precious PhD in ‘metro travelling’. He will know most of the security guards and fellow passengers by name. He looks like the type who will befriend you to sell insurance plans and will have a son studying in Australia. He will know all the tricks of the trade, like which nanosecond is auspicious for de-boarding the train, which coach will have unaware teenagers sitting on seats reserved for the old, which gate to exit from, which escalator is dysfunctional, which staircase would be less crowded and likewise. This type comes to your rescue when you misplace your token and he teaches you the dying art of exiting without tokens.
6)The potential molester: Usually takes the last few rides of the night. Ranges from anywhere near 30-50. Smells of work and alcohol. Stands near the gate or crowded spots to feel-up potential victims. He is also the silent farter releasing poisonous gases that causes more damage to the lungs then the good old tobacco. I suggest a Green Peace petition asking for a ban against his public movement.
7)The dudes: As the plurality suggests, they always come in a pair. Wardrobe sponsored by Palika bazaar/Tibetan monastery. Mobile phones sponsored by Gaffar Market. Their t-shirt reads irritable/ancient quotes like my dad is an ATM machine, so many girlfriends-so little time and likewise! Have multiple piercings with silver studs. Their hair is always in a high-tide state, irrespective of the presence of moon. Their shoes looks like four Nano’s parked outside an office complex. Will ogle and smile at every girl who enters the train. If ogled back, they will start whispering is each other’s ears to make you feel embarrassed.
8)The music maestro: He supports Jairam Ramesh and will righteously blast his Chinese mobile to aching volume even as the background reverberates with the message, ‘Kripaya metro me sangeet na bajaye’. His favorites are Jazzy B, Lady Gaga and Shakira.
9)The messaging syndrome sufferer: This is the female split version of Type 2 disease. She is obviously missing her boyfrand in this long/uncomfortable/lonely metro ride. Her typing is faster than India’s exit from T-20 World Cup. She is oblivious to the glances of the ‘dudes’ and the ‘potential molester’. You don’t have to strain your eyeballs to read her messages which often says, Jaanu tumne khana khaya?, Nonu miss you, Sona tum mujhse naraz ho kya? Or Muah! I Love you my puppyheart! (whatever that means)
10)The die-heart optimist: He has never had the pleasure of sitting for more than an hour in his entire life’s metro journey. He behaves like a spy/detective. He tries to read body language of passengers occupying seats and accordingly stands near the person who he believes is most likely to get down at the next station. He patiently waits supporting his misjudgment, as passengers near his previous positions keep getting up. This even goes on in his next life.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Kites:With holes!
Film: Kites
Starring: Hrithik Roshan, Barbara Mori, Kangana Ranaut, Kabir Bedi & Subtitles
Genre: Subjective/Hideous
My favourite part of the movie was when just 15-minutes into the movie a little girl in the theatre cried out, “par papa ne to kaha tha k picture achi hogi” and as they say, the rest is history.
For starters-
Hrithink Roshan reveals more cleavage than the ‘firang’ import
Kangana Ranaut fits in ease with every dysfunctional/psychopathic role directed her way.
Kabir Bedi fits with ease in every ‘obscenely rich businessman’ role directed his way.
“Iska muh band kyu nahi hota?”-As my mom famously inquires about Barbara Mori.
Subtitles- Enjoys the maximum screen time. His Indian wife, the ‘Hindi Subtitle’ makes her debut in Bollywood. She is a bit too naive for her role and was definitely left red faced when the screen read Bayaliss Daalr ( 42 dollars) in hindi.
‘Kites’ is an expensive/ridiculous attempt at making the ultimate ‘epic love saga’. It’s an attempt at being a ‘Qayamat se Qayamat tak’ plus the foreign locales, bronze look, electrocuted dance, gorgeous bodies/cars, delicious kisses and minus the story, intensity and everything in between.
You don’t feel any love in this love saga as the lead actors either converse in sign language or with theatrical expressions. Hrithik’s forced winking of eyes and strained smile makes you want to throw up. Autowallas in Chennai manage better English than Barbara’s ‘Me love you’. The humour is obvious and the action scenes raise more laughs. I suggest banning this movie in the States as the US Police might just sue the producers for treating them as equals to Bollywood cops. In one of the scenes, when the lead pair is being chased by the police, the couple jumps in to a mammoth vehicle containing cars. Unarmed, our first Indian super hero/jaadu’s best friend uses cars as missiles to combat police vehicles. For his final assault, he sits in a car which miraculously already has gas and keys waiting for him. He hits the car in front of it with full speed, which in turn moves in suspended animated down the mammoth vehicle and lands straight on the face of police vehicles. Big explosion and it goes down as one of the worst/hilarious/nightmarish scenes in Bollywood history.
Also, a few words for the director, Anurag Basu should be prevented from thinking that just because he shares his first name with a certain ‘Kashyap’ doesn’t mean that he can try his hand at symbolism, parallel narration and other arty indulgences often preserved for the intelligentsia. It’s no co-incidence that Hrithik’s room in the movie is a tad too similar to Abhimanyu Singh’s room in Gulaal. Hrithik, shown as a greedy/materialist/opportunist in the beginning of the movie has Che Guevara as his inspiration on the walls. Certainly, Basu’s inspiration is unthoughtful and short-sighted.
P.S- Go watch the movie if you are a bit low on self-worth. You will feel more intelligent than Anurag Basu.
Starring: Hrithik Roshan, Barbara Mori, Kangana Ranaut, Kabir Bedi & Subtitles
Genre: Subjective/Hideous
My favourite part of the movie was when just 15-minutes into the movie a little girl in the theatre cried out, “par papa ne to kaha tha k picture achi hogi” and as they say, the rest is history.
For starters-
Hrithink Roshan reveals more cleavage than the ‘firang’ import
Kangana Ranaut fits in ease with every dysfunctional/psychopathic role directed her way.
Kabir Bedi fits with ease in every ‘obscenely rich businessman’ role directed his way.
“Iska muh band kyu nahi hota?”-As my mom famously inquires about Barbara Mori.
Subtitles- Enjoys the maximum screen time. His Indian wife, the ‘Hindi Subtitle’ makes her debut in Bollywood. She is a bit too naive for her role and was definitely left red faced when the screen read Bayaliss Daalr ( 42 dollars) in hindi.
‘Kites’ is an expensive/ridiculous attempt at making the ultimate ‘epic love saga’. It’s an attempt at being a ‘Qayamat se Qayamat tak’ plus the foreign locales, bronze look, electrocuted dance, gorgeous bodies/cars, delicious kisses and minus the story, intensity and everything in between.
You don’t feel any love in this love saga as the lead actors either converse in sign language or with theatrical expressions. Hrithik’s forced winking of eyes and strained smile makes you want to throw up. Autowallas in Chennai manage better English than Barbara’s ‘Me love you’. The humour is obvious and the action scenes raise more laughs. I suggest banning this movie in the States as the US Police might just sue the producers for treating them as equals to Bollywood cops. In one of the scenes, when the lead pair is being chased by the police, the couple jumps in to a mammoth vehicle containing cars. Unarmed, our first Indian super hero/jaadu’s best friend uses cars as missiles to combat police vehicles. For his final assault, he sits in a car which miraculously already has gas and keys waiting for him. He hits the car in front of it with full speed, which in turn moves in suspended animated down the mammoth vehicle and lands straight on the face of police vehicles. Big explosion and it goes down as one of the worst/hilarious/nightmarish scenes in Bollywood history.
Also, a few words for the director, Anurag Basu should be prevented from thinking that just because he shares his first name with a certain ‘Kashyap’ doesn’t mean that he can try his hand at symbolism, parallel narration and other arty indulgences often preserved for the intelligentsia. It’s no co-incidence that Hrithik’s room in the movie is a tad too similar to Abhimanyu Singh’s room in Gulaal. Hrithik, shown as a greedy/materialist/opportunist in the beginning of the movie has Che Guevara as his inspiration on the walls. Certainly, Basu’s inspiration is unthoughtful and short-sighted.
P.S- Go watch the movie if you are a bit low on self-worth. You will feel more intelligent than Anurag Basu.
One afternoon @ CP
As I entered, animal fat-filled aroma hit me right where it hurts the most-stomach. I rushed to the counter as if ISI officials were after my life and asked for a chicken burger. “Have it or take away”, the guy with a constipated look asked. I said take away while motioning my hands to emphasise that I want to have it here. Perplexed, the constipated look guy gave an even more constipated look to the guy standing next to him who looked like a prisoner of war going through a torture session. Realising my mistake, I made a swift correction and gave him a “How the fuck does it matter?” look.
With efficiency, that would put any robot and its inventor to shame, the “prisoner of war” guy got me my next 300 calories and motioned the tray in front of me. As if almost on cue, I ordered for cold water, extra ketchup and extra tissues. (No, I am not one of those who collect souvenirs from trains and hotels and restaurants and save monthly rations.) To this, he gave me a look of hurt, as if it was a breach of some unknown bond between us. Anyways, I picked my tray and looked around for an empty corner. Trust me, it’s easier to find living proof of the early man than to find an empty seat in a fast food joint in CP. Almost everywhere I glanced people gave me, “Oh poor girl” look, to which I wanted to respond by grabbing their necks and give an Undertaker style Chokes-lamb.
Anyways, an uncle in his twilight years, occupying a table of four gave me inviting looks (no pun intended). I trailed his eyes and sat with a thud (thanks to weight that is ashamed of itself). In no mood to communicate, I immediately got down to business and finished half the burger before he could complete a single respiratory process. To compensate for my selfish behaviour I gave him a beauty contest winner smile to which he asked if I liked the burger. I said I hated it and so started the conversation. While he hurled abuses at Shiela Dikshit and Sonia Gandhi for digging out the whole of Delhi which denied him his morning walk and Perizaad Zorabian dreams, I kept contemplating how much damage can another 300 calories do? His face kept moving at 45 degrees on the axis, as he explained how countries like Thailand, Singapore, Britain, US, Australia, New Zealand, Uzbekistan (ok I made that up) are far better than India. I had to cut him short, to which his British accented voice crippled with colonial etiquettes.
I excused myself for another difficult decision, but to my own surprise I settled for a vegetarian burger (It’s my way of saying to God, “I hereby made a sacrifice. Now please get me a job!!!). Anyways, returning to the table I found him waiting for me which is always a dangerous sign. Which also meant that he named more countries than my Geography teacher ever knew, gave all the arguments why E. Sreedharan (the metro man of Delhi) should be awarded a Padma Bhushan and told me why Manmohan Singh is the best performer. Well some words just don’t go down well with me. I could not control the immediate rush of visuals to my brain wherein Manmohan Singh performed the Balle-Balle act. (Ok, I am not an anti-national but usage of words like ‘perform’ shall be strictly confined to Viagra commercials).
The vigour with which he discussed the socio-economic problems of the country would have put any P. Sainath to shame. I kept giving occasional intelligent gestures to keep him amused. Suddenly, at a stroke of enlightenment he blurted out ‘Population-That is the root cause of all that is evil in the country.’ To this had I said, “Congratulations you can be the next CM of Delhi,” that would have been the EOM of the conversation. But almost on whim, I wanted to flaunt my newly gathered costly education so I uttered the word, “Inequality.” Almost as an act of symbolism he shifted from CENTRE to the LEFT of the table. All after that is blurred and hazy. Last I remember is getting late for the interview that no one took.,
With efficiency, that would put any robot and its inventor to shame, the “prisoner of war” guy got me my next 300 calories and motioned the tray in front of me. As if almost on cue, I ordered for cold water, extra ketchup and extra tissues. (No, I am not one of those who collect souvenirs from trains and hotels and restaurants and save monthly rations.) To this, he gave me a look of hurt, as if it was a breach of some unknown bond between us. Anyways, I picked my tray and looked around for an empty corner. Trust me, it’s easier to find living proof of the early man than to find an empty seat in a fast food joint in CP. Almost everywhere I glanced people gave me, “Oh poor girl” look, to which I wanted to respond by grabbing their necks and give an Undertaker style Chokes-lamb.
Anyways, an uncle in his twilight years, occupying a table of four gave me inviting looks (no pun intended). I trailed his eyes and sat with a thud (thanks to weight that is ashamed of itself). In no mood to communicate, I immediately got down to business and finished half the burger before he could complete a single respiratory process. To compensate for my selfish behaviour I gave him a beauty contest winner smile to which he asked if I liked the burger. I said I hated it and so started the conversation. While he hurled abuses at Shiela Dikshit and Sonia Gandhi for digging out the whole of Delhi which denied him his morning walk and Perizaad Zorabian dreams, I kept contemplating how much damage can another 300 calories do? His face kept moving at 45 degrees on the axis, as he explained how countries like Thailand, Singapore, Britain, US, Australia, New Zealand, Uzbekistan (ok I made that up) are far better than India. I had to cut him short, to which his British accented voice crippled with colonial etiquettes.
I excused myself for another difficult decision, but to my own surprise I settled for a vegetarian burger (It’s my way of saying to God, “I hereby made a sacrifice. Now please get me a job!!!). Anyways, returning to the table I found him waiting for me which is always a dangerous sign. Which also meant that he named more countries than my Geography teacher ever knew, gave all the arguments why E. Sreedharan (the metro man of Delhi) should be awarded a Padma Bhushan and told me why Manmohan Singh is the best performer. Well some words just don’t go down well with me. I could not control the immediate rush of visuals to my brain wherein Manmohan Singh performed the Balle-Balle act. (Ok, I am not an anti-national but usage of words like ‘perform’ shall be strictly confined to Viagra commercials).
The vigour with which he discussed the socio-economic problems of the country would have put any P. Sainath to shame. I kept giving occasional intelligent gestures to keep him amused. Suddenly, at a stroke of enlightenment he blurted out ‘Population-That is the root cause of all that is evil in the country.’ To this had I said, “Congratulations you can be the next CM of Delhi,” that would have been the EOM of the conversation. But almost on whim, I wanted to flaunt my newly gathered costly education so I uttered the word, “Inequality.” Almost as an act of symbolism he shifted from CENTRE to the LEFT of the table. All after that is blurred and hazy. Last I remember is getting late for the interview that no one took.,
Friday, May 21, 2010
The diary of a self-righteous struggler (part II)
Disclaimer:
This piece is written under intense pressure to prove that the shit I wrote in the last two days was no fluke. It is to tell myself that I am capable of sustaining un-inspirational, derogatory, arrogant, ridiculous writing over a considerable number of days (considerable= 3 days)
This piece is also written under immense heartbreak (miswrote it as brake) as there has been no internet connection since evening and my sadist brother breaks into a gig every time he catches me manhandling the router. A desperate call to the Airtel customer-care confirms my worst nightmare-It’s a server breakdown. My mom tries to place the events on a timeline, “Haan, shop pe Lucky bol raha tha ke Naxalwadio ne koi tower uda dia hai. 1000 log mar gaye. Tabhi server down hoga.” I take a deep breath and lock myself in a room. I listen to Beatles and feel wasted. I try to pick some movie from the hard drive, but give up in disdain.
: Disclaimer Over
This is in continuation to yesterday’s piece. This is dedicated to all my friends/philosophers/guides who have been a source of immense support through my unemployment phase and continue to do so till the curse gets bored of itself. Here are the 10 best pep talks/advices/inspirational messages directed towards me in the last 1 month and 7 days to be precise. (The names of the speakers have been kept anonymous on moral/ethical grounds. See-2, making of a good journalist, now can I get a job??)
1) Sab theek ho jayega (Everything will be fine): I understand that it’s the birth right of every patriotic Indian National to use this phrase at a drop of a hat. But, I feel like a teenage girl who has been impregnated by a rich boyfriend and a cheap condom and is left all deserted and cashless to abort the ‘aakhri pyaar ki nishani.’
2) Isme bhi kuch acha hi hoga (Something good will come out of this): I salute your level of optimism Sir (Oh that can be a hint). But I am dying here waiting for the ‘Acha’ to happen. If you think I am going to give up on my 2B’s (Butter chicken and Beer) as a last resort to please god, then FORGET IT!!
(Umm...On second thoughts...It’s not a big sacrifice though!)
3) I am sure you will shine someday: Yes, I will shine and India TV will declare me as Jaadu’s little sister on a vacation to Planet Earth. Worse, they won’t even count me in the 2011 census!
4) You will fly like a plane, you just need a runaway: Well, the above mentioned hypothesis holds true in this case as well. Moreover, who needs a job if I could fly? I would rather join the league of Superman/Batman/Spiderman/Iron Man-2 (I missed first part ;)) and ‘privatise world peace’. (Quoted from Iron Man-2. See, I told you I have my ethics intact)
5) Have patience, these things take time: I am not in labour Sir. Even ‘patience’ is ashamed/bored/embarrassed of my unemployment.
6) Tujhe sabne reject kar dia, maybe you are exceptional: I know you love me. Now stop making a fool of yourself.
7) There is a great learning in this wait: Yeah. Now I have learned names of obscure newspapers which otherwise no J-school would have taught. I can recite (miswrote it as entice) the station names of the newly opened metro link like a poem. The colour of my skin has gone two shades darker (as if Chennai wasn’t enough?) and last but not the least I get these cruel/sadistic dreams in which I hold a job in a fancy newspaper.
8) Don’t lose hope: Why? Is it the next best sin after losing one’s virginity? Does the Vatican condemn it? (ok! stay away from controversies)
9) Tough times don’t last, tough people do: This usually comes at the end of a B-grade inspirational speech with excerpts from Shiv Khera/Paulo Coelho/Arindam Chaudhary’s work.
10) Intelligent people are often misjudged: This usually comes from people who are sailing in the same boat.
P.S- I love you all.
P.P.S-I am just jobless.
This piece is written under intense pressure to prove that the shit I wrote in the last two days was no fluke. It is to tell myself that I am capable of sustaining un-inspirational, derogatory, arrogant, ridiculous writing over a considerable number of days (considerable= 3 days)
This piece is also written under immense heartbreak (miswrote it as brake) as there has been no internet connection since evening and my sadist brother breaks into a gig every time he catches me manhandling the router. A desperate call to the Airtel customer-care confirms my worst nightmare-It’s a server breakdown. My mom tries to place the events on a timeline, “Haan, shop pe Lucky bol raha tha ke Naxalwadio ne koi tower uda dia hai. 1000 log mar gaye. Tabhi server down hoga.” I take a deep breath and lock myself in a room. I listen to Beatles and feel wasted. I try to pick some movie from the hard drive, but give up in disdain.
: Disclaimer Over
This is in continuation to yesterday’s piece. This is dedicated to all my friends/philosophers/guides who have been a source of immense support through my unemployment phase and continue to do so till the curse gets bored of itself. Here are the 10 best pep talks/advices/inspirational messages directed towards me in the last 1 month and 7 days to be precise. (The names of the speakers have been kept anonymous on moral/ethical grounds. See-2, making of a good journalist, now can I get a job??)
1) Sab theek ho jayega (Everything will be fine): I understand that it’s the birth right of every patriotic Indian National to use this phrase at a drop of a hat. But, I feel like a teenage girl who has been impregnated by a rich boyfriend and a cheap condom and is left all deserted and cashless to abort the ‘aakhri pyaar ki nishani.’
2) Isme bhi kuch acha hi hoga (Something good will come out of this): I salute your level of optimism Sir (Oh that can be a hint). But I am dying here waiting for the ‘Acha’ to happen. If you think I am going to give up on my 2B’s (Butter chicken and Beer) as a last resort to please god, then FORGET IT!!
(Umm...On second thoughts...It’s not a big sacrifice though!)
3) I am sure you will shine someday: Yes, I will shine and India TV will declare me as Jaadu’s little sister on a vacation to Planet Earth. Worse, they won’t even count me in the 2011 census!
4) You will fly like a plane, you just need a runaway: Well, the above mentioned hypothesis holds true in this case as well. Moreover, who needs a job if I could fly? I would rather join the league of Superman/Batman/Spiderman/Iron Man-2 (I missed first part ;)) and ‘privatise world peace’. (Quoted from Iron Man-2. See, I told you I have my ethics intact)
5) Have patience, these things take time: I am not in labour Sir. Even ‘patience’ is ashamed/bored/embarrassed of my unemployment.
6) Tujhe sabne reject kar dia, maybe you are exceptional: I know you love me. Now stop making a fool of yourself.
7) There is a great learning in this wait: Yeah. Now I have learned names of obscure newspapers which otherwise no J-school would have taught. I can recite (miswrote it as entice) the station names of the newly opened metro link like a poem. The colour of my skin has gone two shades darker (as if Chennai wasn’t enough?) and last but not the least I get these cruel/sadistic dreams in which I hold a job in a fancy newspaper.
8) Don’t lose hope: Why? Is it the next best sin after losing one’s virginity? Does the Vatican condemn it? (ok! stay away from controversies)
9) Tough times don’t last, tough people do: This usually comes at the end of a B-grade inspirational speech with excerpts from Shiv Khera/Paulo Coelho/Arindam Chaudhary’s work.
10) Intelligent people are often misjudged: This usually comes from people who are sailing in the same boat.
P.S- I love you all.
P.P.S-I am just jobless.
The diary of a self-righteous struggler
An attempt/study to analyse the nature of my unemployment
Following are the reactions/comments/reasons hurled at me when I knocked the doors of media organisations in Delhi after facing 12 rejections (miswrote it as ejaculation ;)) in campus placements.
Also included are the four interviews I gave in Chennai.
Times of India: Don’t you think you are better suited for ETNow since you have done your specialisation in Radio?
Economic Times: Don’t you think you fit into the requirements of the main TOI better?
Delhi Times:
Excerpt 1
So you gave the interview for the main TOI in Chennai? What went wrong there?
Eh..err...Sir, actually they were looking for people at Desk. I am kind of more interested in reporting.
I am afraid it’s the same case with DT. Even I am looking for people at desk.
(er...umm...Oh I see..smiles like an ass)
Excerpt 2
Am I right when I say that you are not interested in DT, but this is a ground for you to once get into Benet and Coleman and later on pursue your ideological interests by getting into main TOI?
(How very observant of you)
Excerpt 3
Even your writing style is very main paperish kinds
Hindu: We take people with 4-5 years of experience. I suggest you try in a smaller paper like The Asian Age
The Asian Age: What makes you come to a paper like us? With ACJ tag, you could have gone anywhere.
The Telegraph: We are really impressed with your profile, come to Kolkata for interview.
The Tribune: After 1 hour of search, 5 calls to just dial and 2 km on foot @ 44 degree Celsius.
Hiring to Chandigarh se hoti hai ji. (chuckles)
Business World: Our HR sits in Kolkata You send your CV to them.
(The poor guard empathises with me. He thinks, I travelled extensively from Chennai for the job. We exchange a knowing look. We part on a, ‘Sab theek ho jayega’ note.
Statesman: The guy who had been acting all bossy turns out to be an admin guy. Edit team to Nuida baithti hai ji. (grins)
IANS: What? (shock, disbelief, angst) You could not get a campus placement from ACJ?
PTI: (Punjabi aunty at the reception) Puttar PTI me job aise nahi milti, uske liye to paper nikalte hai ye log. Vaise kuch fayada to hona nahi, par apni tassali ke liye rezoom déjà.
UNI: A sarkari karamchari cum senior reporter mulls over my CV for a good 5 minutes. Adjusts his spectacles @ every 10 seconds. Scratches his head in confusion. Examines my face as if a dentist examines cavities and shoots a ‘Theek Hai’. I give a puppy-eyed look and am about to utter the golden jugaadu word, ‘Sirjee’, before he interrupts me with a ‘bulayenge aapko’ promise. The long agonising wait...
ANI: I try to fool, bribe, dodge the security guards. Attempts Unsuccessful.
Pioneer: (with inflated chest and ego) Hamara to apna media school hai
Indian Express: We don’t have any requirements as of now, but if you want you can leave your CV at the reception. (I don’t believe her).
And anyways, this year will be the first passing out batch of The Indian Express Media School
(Fuck You!)
(A generous display of middle finger to you)
DNA: I am trying to convince the Kiron Kher lookalike at the reception to let me meet the editor for once. I try emotional blackmail, human rights violation, Punjabi connection. It works. She gives me a sympathetic look. Turns back, glances towards the editor’s cabin and shudders in terror.
Nahi-2, sir ne mana kia hai disturb karne se, aapko pata nahi hai vo bahut gusse vale hai.
Reuters: I understand from your resume that you are more interested in Politics than business. Am I right in my observations?
NDTV Hindu: I see you are very passionate. But too much of passion can be harmful sometimes. Don’t you think so? (grins like a crotch scratching government official)
Tehelka: (straight face with robotic tone) (I think she likes bondage sex) I see subjects of controversy do not invoke much passion in you.
Deccan Herald: For the first time someone asks about my dissertation at ACJ. I get hyperactive and perform a breathless act that can give any Shankar Mahadevan a run for for money. I talk about the kind of stories I did in Chennai, how I reported under difficult reporting conditions. And thanks to ACJ, now I can live in any part of the country, by which I hinted at Bangalore.
So am I interested in Desk or Reporting?
Can’t you guess it by now. Obviously, reporting.
But how will you manage reporting in Bangalore when you don’t know the local language?
The same way as I managed in Chennai
Chennai!!! (surprise-2), but when did you report in Chennai?
Eh, ahem...Sir, while I was in ACJ.
ACJ!!!(Surprise-3), What is ACJ???
(I quit)
The Telegraph (Delhi Bureau-Features Office)
The second in command to the Bureau head is taken by surprise by my sudden infiltration in the office camp. All happens too quickly for her as I bombard her with my by-lines, engage in acts of narcissism, talk, sell my internships, and talk even more. I pause to breathe and so does she, I feel like a salesgirl trying to achieve a feat by selling a juicer in one minute. She thinks I have done a lot in life in too less a time. Ok, that’s a good sign.
There were a few vacancies and in fact we closed with our selection process only yesterday. But don’t lose hope, I will put in a word with the editor.
(And I like the lady)
Political and Business Daily: Never come with a photo-stated copy of your resume!
(And I thought these small papers don’t have attitude)
Sikh Times
Yes, there is actually a paper by this name!!!
Following are the reactions/comments/reasons hurled at me when I knocked the doors of media organisations in Delhi after facing 12 rejections (miswrote it as ejaculation ;)) in campus placements.
Also included are the four interviews I gave in Chennai.
Times of India: Don’t you think you are better suited for ETNow since you have done your specialisation in Radio?
Economic Times: Don’t you think you fit into the requirements of the main TOI better?
Delhi Times:
Excerpt 1
So you gave the interview for the main TOI in Chennai? What went wrong there?
Eh..err...Sir, actually they were looking for people at Desk. I am kind of more interested in reporting.
I am afraid it’s the same case with DT. Even I am looking for people at desk.
(er...umm...Oh I see..smiles like an ass)
Excerpt 2
Am I right when I say that you are not interested in DT, but this is a ground for you to once get into Benet and Coleman and later on pursue your ideological interests by getting into main TOI?
(How very observant of you)
Excerpt 3
Even your writing style is very main paperish kinds
Hindu: We take people with 4-5 years of experience. I suggest you try in a smaller paper like The Asian Age
The Asian Age: What makes you come to a paper like us? With ACJ tag, you could have gone anywhere.
The Telegraph: We are really impressed with your profile, come to Kolkata for interview.
The Tribune: After 1 hour of search, 5 calls to just dial and 2 km on foot @ 44 degree Celsius.
Hiring to Chandigarh se hoti hai ji. (chuckles)
Business World: Our HR sits in Kolkata You send your CV to them.
(The poor guard empathises with me. He thinks, I travelled extensively from Chennai for the job. We exchange a knowing look. We part on a, ‘Sab theek ho jayega’ note.
Statesman: The guy who had been acting all bossy turns out to be an admin guy. Edit team to Nuida baithti hai ji. (grins)
IANS: What? (shock, disbelief, angst) You could not get a campus placement from ACJ?
PTI: (Punjabi aunty at the reception) Puttar PTI me job aise nahi milti, uske liye to paper nikalte hai ye log. Vaise kuch fayada to hona nahi, par apni tassali ke liye rezoom déjà.
UNI: A sarkari karamchari cum senior reporter mulls over my CV for a good 5 minutes. Adjusts his spectacles @ every 10 seconds. Scratches his head in confusion. Examines my face as if a dentist examines cavities and shoots a ‘Theek Hai’. I give a puppy-eyed look and am about to utter the golden jugaadu word, ‘Sirjee’, before he interrupts me with a ‘bulayenge aapko’ promise. The long agonising wait...
ANI: I try to fool, bribe, dodge the security guards. Attempts Unsuccessful.
Pioneer: (with inflated chest and ego) Hamara to apna media school hai
Indian Express: We don’t have any requirements as of now, but if you want you can leave your CV at the reception. (I don’t believe her).
And anyways, this year will be the first passing out batch of The Indian Express Media School
(Fuck You!)
(A generous display of middle finger to you)
DNA: I am trying to convince the Kiron Kher lookalike at the reception to let me meet the editor for once. I try emotional blackmail, human rights violation, Punjabi connection. It works. She gives me a sympathetic look. Turns back, glances towards the editor’s cabin and shudders in terror.
Nahi-2, sir ne mana kia hai disturb karne se, aapko pata nahi hai vo bahut gusse vale hai.
Reuters: I understand from your resume that you are more interested in Politics than business. Am I right in my observations?
NDTV Hindu: I see you are very passionate. But too much of passion can be harmful sometimes. Don’t you think so? (grins like a crotch scratching government official)
Tehelka: (straight face with robotic tone) (I think she likes bondage sex) I see subjects of controversy do not invoke much passion in you.
Deccan Herald: For the first time someone asks about my dissertation at ACJ. I get hyperactive and perform a breathless act that can give any Shankar Mahadevan a run for for money. I talk about the kind of stories I did in Chennai, how I reported under difficult reporting conditions. And thanks to ACJ, now I can live in any part of the country, by which I hinted at Bangalore.
So am I interested in Desk or Reporting?
Can’t you guess it by now. Obviously, reporting.
But how will you manage reporting in Bangalore when you don’t know the local language?
The same way as I managed in Chennai
Chennai!!! (surprise-2), but when did you report in Chennai?
Eh, ahem...Sir, while I was in ACJ.
ACJ!!!(Surprise-3), What is ACJ???
(I quit)
The Telegraph (Delhi Bureau-Features Office)
The second in command to the Bureau head is taken by surprise by my sudden infiltration in the office camp. All happens too quickly for her as I bombard her with my by-lines, engage in acts of narcissism, talk, sell my internships, and talk even more. I pause to breathe and so does she, I feel like a salesgirl trying to achieve a feat by selling a juicer in one minute. She thinks I have done a lot in life in too less a time. Ok, that’s a good sign.
There were a few vacancies and in fact we closed with our selection process only yesterday. But don’t lose hope, I will put in a word with the editor.
(And I like the lady)
Political and Business Daily: Never come with a photo-stated copy of your resume!
(And I thought these small papers don’t have attitude)
Sikh Times
Yes, there is actually a paper by this name!!!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
A brief history about me!
I know I am at least 100 light years behind Indian Standard Time in starting off this blog.
I am a highly paranoid, self-destructive, cynical and offensive species. I come in a usually extra-large size t-shirt with a navy blue jeans. I despise bearded women, women who discuss ‘palloo ka design’ in public transport, women who accepts ‘frandships’ on orkut/facebook/frandbooks, women who make for trophy wives, women who inquire if I have a Boyfrand?, women who break into a ‘dharm bhrasht ho jayega mode’ the moment they overhear the word liquor, women who drink diet coke and eat un-cheesy burgers, women who ask guys ‘tumhe mujhme kya acha lagta hai’ and mostly passionately I loathe women with size-zero.
Coming to the weaker-sex, the Male species
(I told you I offend)
I feel men with unsteady-elbow disorder in public transport shall be treated by trauma surgeons, rapers/molestators shall be castrated in full public view, men driving cars with surround sound, black film on windows and ‘mom’s gift’ written in front-shall serve life imprisonment, Mukesh Ambani’s private planes shall be hijacked, Vijay Mallya’s unsold stock shall be looted, Lalit Modi shall write an autobiography instead of cartons of replies, Jairam Ramesh should get a hair-cut, Pronoy Roy shall take an early retirement and hand over the reins to me and Shashi Tharoor shall get a life-time achievement award.
I am a highly paranoid, self-destructive, cynical and offensive species. I come in a usually extra-large size t-shirt with a navy blue jeans. I despise bearded women, women who discuss ‘palloo ka design’ in public transport, women who accepts ‘frandships’ on orkut/facebook/frandbooks, women who make for trophy wives, women who inquire if I have a Boyfrand?, women who break into a ‘dharm bhrasht ho jayega mode’ the moment they overhear the word liquor, women who drink diet coke and eat un-cheesy burgers, women who ask guys ‘tumhe mujhme kya acha lagta hai’ and mostly passionately I loathe women with size-zero.
Coming to the weaker-sex, the Male species
(I told you I offend)
I feel men with unsteady-elbow disorder in public transport shall be treated by trauma surgeons, rapers/molestators shall be castrated in full public view, men driving cars with surround sound, black film on windows and ‘mom’s gift’ written in front-shall serve life imprisonment, Mukesh Ambani’s private planes shall be hijacked, Vijay Mallya’s unsold stock shall be looted, Lalit Modi shall write an autobiography instead of cartons of replies, Jairam Ramesh should get a hair-cut, Pronoy Roy shall take an early retirement and hand over the reins to me and Shashi Tharoor shall get a life-time achievement award.
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