Are we hypocrites?

This blog I am compelled to write, for I find it quite ridiculous and highly hypocritical that we Indians are rooting for, are gung-ho and almost jumping with joy that one Mr. Barack Obama has won the presidential race in USA.

I can understand if Indians living in the US of A root / vote / are upbeat about it cos the man has come to power on the oldest political gimmick - Change. It sure means something to them. But Indians living in India? Strange.

They call it 'living the American Dream'. Yes, good for USA, that it has at last transcended its racial beliefs and believed that change was good. Indeed, the country is in a quagmire which it has to get out of soon, more for its own benefit and that of the world.

The point here is, how many of us Indians, know even who the President of India is, much less dissect the speeches, views and opinions made by the President. We dont care who comes and sits in Rashtrapathi Bhavan. Many of my peers followed the presidential campaign so closely / intently making me wonder if they were on the campaign team.

Rather than look inside and wonder where we are, we are looking out of the window to see hows the world outside. Do we really care who sits in the oval office, are the policies being made for Indians living in India. NO.

Then, why this blatant hypocrisy, we don't want to know what the politicians are doing, what policies they make, we have never cared to listen to a PM / Presidential speech during Independence / Republic day respectively. Most of us dont even venture out to cast our vote but enjoy the holiday. We Indians sure have to start looking inward than stare glassy eyed at what is happening in the rest of the world.

Losing my religion

This blog has been influenced by the article in Cricinfo http://gulf.cricinfo.com/magazine/content/current/story/376791.html

We can see many a poster held up by Indian fans saying "Cricket is my religion, and Sachin is my God" or "Commit all your crimes when Sachin is batting. They will go unnoticed because even the Lord is watching!?"

As in the case of Hinduism, we have several gods to look upto (for different occasions / needs) and cricket in India is no different. I am compelled to write this article because 2 of the demi-gods who ruled the cricket grounds for more than 10 years have finally called it a day.

For a long time, these men have withstood our brainless chatter, the immense tribulations we put them thro and carried the pressures of a billion people on their shoulders with panache. We adored them, prayed for them, jumped with them, hated them, derided them.....the list is long.

Indeed the god of the upper echelons had plans for Indian Cricket when he gave us the Class of 74 (Sachin, Dravid and Ganguly), the bespectacled gentle engineer with grits of steel (Kumble) and the man with the rotatory wrists who finds genuine pleasure when playing Australia (Laxman)

We have seen them playing, giving us many a heart stopping moment and little less nails and grown up as an integral part of Team India. We used to switch of the television once these great men somehow seemed human and were back in the pavilion. This slow exodus will surely mean something, much like many stopped watching Formula 1 after Schumi retired, am sure many of my peers would stop watching Cricket when Sachin decides to hang up his boots.

I can surely feel, my childhood is ending, part of me just dying with the retirement of the Prince of Kolkatta and Jumbo. Indian Cricket will never be the same again but they sure have left it in a better condition than they found it.

Does Chandrayan prove we can excel on a shoe-string budget?

Chandrayaan-1, now successfully orbiting the moon, cost less than one-tenth of the Indian Premier League rights bagged by Sony Entertainment. Rocket science may be no match for cricket on the Indian popularity scale, but the economics of the Indian space odyssey could well be a lesson for everyone. While ISRO spent a little more than Rs 380 crores (about half the price of a jumbo jet) on Chandrayaan-1, a similar effort by NASA or any other space agency would have cost five times more. ISRO chairman said that the agency did not cut any corners. The key was optimisation -- tests that the Americans would have done six times, ISRO did just three times. It was a calculated risk but has been successful so far. Do you think that Isro's example proves we can successfully execute ambitious projects on a shoe-string budget? Or does cost-cutting mean compromising on quality?

We, Indians, can surely excel in anything we put our minds to. We have proved time and again that we can spring a surprise on the world, whether facing the US led sanctions during testing of the A-bomb, bringing FDI into India, achieving 8-9% growth and now Chandrayan-I.

The key here is, all things run parallel. Industry Growth, Economic Development, Eradication of Poverty and the Mission to Moon. Its not like we can do 1 thing and not do another at the same time. Its the will to succeed and aspiration to do something which makes the world stand up and take notice. If only our narrow minded politicians had the same dedication and aspiration of making India proud. Now, thanks to ISRO, we have a fledging satellite launch business, which will surely help us reap benefits, if not now, 5-10 years down the line and has put on the global map being only the 6th country in the world to have an unmanned mission to the moon.

One lamentable fact is that though we make giant strides in some areas, we fall woefully short in some. There is no uniform growth in all sectors. Borrowing a line from a popular Rajni movie - The rich get richer, the poor get poorer!!

Our Indian Sense of Sensuality & Sexuality

ROFL..........

The IPL (Indian Premier League) tournament underway in full swing in our ever cricket crazy country, has certainly created waves in the cricketing world setting it afire with its pomp n show, star owners, fat salary packets, imported cheerleaders (the list goes on)....It has also attracted its fair share of contoversies especially 'Slapgate'.

One of the comical (according to me) controversies currently making the rounds is the morally upsetting clothes of the cheerleaders, them gyrating to music and their pom poms. Our (imm)moral politicians are trudging and actually making their voice heard in Parliament condemning this import. I wonder what upset them, the white skin of the cheerleaders, their fancy clothes, the skin show or the dance numbers.



It certainly has to be the white skin as I dont see them screaming in Parliament about girls n boys getting spoiled when Rakhi Sawant or Sherlyn Chopra shake their booty and show of their wares in the minimalistic of clothes. Neither did they jump from roof top when Kareena Kapoor donned a bikini to show of her new wafer thin waistline in Tashan or when Bipasha drops her clothes in Jism. Even worse, movies like Zeher, Race, Aitraaz show the women willing to bed men for the sake of money / power...not that these women are married to the protaganist in the movies. Isnt that amoral to our politicians?

India, despite being the land of the Kamasutra, Vatsayana still follows the concept of closet sexuality. I wonder if our politicians and the moral police visited any of the hip and happening discs in any of the metros....would they still be scandalized? My guess is they would fall dead on the spot (as in have a heart attack).



Comical, it took a bunch of skimpily clad cheerleaders to make our politicians attend parliament. It would certainly liven by budget proceedings and help pass bills faster if they were around...

Btw...I like their legs ;)

Qualifications..............

A timeline of qualifications (this is specific to India)

Pre 1970s : Education system in India was just taking off and if you managed to go to school (did not matter if you finished it or not), you were on the way to greatness.

1970s : Colleges gradually became a force of their own and if you finished your degree, you were practically a super genius and could command any job in the market (irrespective of your degree). A commerce degree could get you a clerk job in a national bank and you were set for life. If you took your chances that came your way, gave the promotion exams at periodic intervals, you could get to be chairman of a bank at 50.

1980s : India started gradually making advances in various fields like medicine, space research, nuclear science and what not...the education system advanced further to master's degree

1990s (Post Liberalization) - 2008 : The economy took off and India was the toast of the world. IIMs set a benchmark every year with astronomical salaries. Not just Indian companies, even MNCs wanted a piece of the great Indian brain (thank god, no brain drain, the brains remained in India and worked for foreigners). If you wanted any piece of the India Shining action, you had to have MBA or a Professional degree behind your name.... As as result, we have serpentine queues at our employment exchanges or graduates doing menial jobs.

Amidst all this, imagine the qualification to become a politician since 60s to now..has anything changed? All that is needed is for you to be 21 years of age. Why is our country with the largest number of english speaking run by uncouth illiterate idiots. Thank god , for the last few years, our prime ministers and presidents have been educated on par with the other world leaders. The rest simply suck....No political party has even had the guts to rectify this pathetic situation. We people also must be blamed..when educated people stand (Lok Paritran), we cast them aside (by not voting) as if they are a blackspot on our election system.

Wonder when will this change!!!

The Man Rules

-> Men are NOT mind readers.

-> Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down.You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

-> Sunday + GOOD WEATHER = MOTORCYCLES. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

-> Crying is blackmail.

-> Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work!
Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

-> Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

-> Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

-> Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become Null and void after 7 Days.

-> If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

-> If something we said can be interpreted in two ways and one of the ways
makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one

-> You can either ask us to do something Or tell us how you want it done.
Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

-> Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

-> Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.

-> ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not A color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

-> If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

-> If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong.
We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

-> If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, Expect an answer you don't want to hear.

-> When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine... Really .

-> Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as MOTORCYCLES OR POLITICS.

-> You have enough clothes. You have too many shoes.

-> I am in shape. Round IS a shape!

Travesty of South Indian Names

Yet another week passes by full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theaters, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening.

Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere Mallus (From Kerala) and Tams? (From Tamil Nadu) (Kanadus (From Karnataka) were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)

Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise.

Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named Northy classmates start calling him Paratha (Indian Bread). No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see.

By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager.

After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he can't use his 50000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.

Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes Appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.

If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry Casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..). ." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary.

Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the Northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe.

In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention.

The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunchroom his female coworkers just disappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. They have all rematerialized around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.)

Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be.

A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But Amma has said only on second saturdays..."