Sick Sunday

Yesterday was Sunday. When I woke up I found my mother making tea and my father with his nose burrowed in the newspaper. I wished my mother good morning and told my dad he needs to take me to a doctor. In reply my father moved from the editorial to the cartoon section and asked, “Why?”

I think my father is the coolest person on earth. But he also has one quirk. Sometimes without any intimation he shifts from The Cool Mode to The Homer Simpson Mode. In reply to my father’s why I wanted to say because there is a new doctor in town about whom all my friends say she is super hot. I think I must check her out. Speaking this would have made Homer Simpson strangle me like Bart Simpson. So instead of the wisecrack I said the truth. I said, “Because I am sick”.

My father took me to a more-than-a-clinic-but-not-yet-a-hospital type of place. The place had nameplates of four doctors on the door and I think they had enough degrees among themselves to cover all the alphabets of English language. Along with the nameplates there was a mention of when the medical representatives can meet the doctors and several posters about which I am sure were put up by medical representatives. The most interesting poster had a man standing behind bars with the caption ‘Doctor is not God. Beating the doctor is a criminal offence’. Not very confidence inspiring in the abilities of the doctors I must say.

Among the four doctors, the least educated one diagnosed me. He was so poorly educated that he had only four alphabets in his degree. And even among those four alphabets one was repeated. He was just an MBBS.  

When the doctor called me in, my father stood up and entered the doctor’s room. That’s my father in the Homer Simpson mode. He doesn’t appreciate the concept of physician-patient privilege. Physician-patient privilege aka client confidently means the doctor can ask me how many times you masturbate during a day and in reply I can say, “Look doc, I am a young man. I don’t have a girlfriend but I have super fast unlimited broadband connection.  You do the maths.” The doctor will never reveal this to anybody (There is some grey area. This concept might not work if the doctor decides to become a standup comedian). The doctor can tweet ‘Just met the weirdest/craziest patient of my life’ but my name will appear only in his DMs. 

The doctor did the check up and said you will have to change your lifestyle. My mind immediately went into red alert and started broadcasting at full volume the following message throughout my body ‘Do not listen to the doctor. Your browsing history is the proof that you are 100% straight. Stay that way. I repeat do not listen to the doctor’. I said okay to the doctor and collected the prescription. 

After the doctor me and my dad visited the chemist. The chemist had a look at my prescription and said, “Damn it. You should have consulted the MD.” WTF man. How serious I am that I need an MD. When did the druggists changed their profession from selling medicines to scaring the shit out of their customers. 

After collecting the medicines me and my father walked towards his bike. I said to my father there is one more thing we need to do. He asked what and gave me a look which I immediately decoded as ‘You donkey. You didn’t say yes when your mother said can you bring some vegetables’. 

I said I want to buy India Today.  My father took me to the nearest magazine vendor and I told the guy sitting at the counter to give me a copy of English India Today. In response the guy smiled and gave me a magazine which had a half nude model on the cover with the caption “Porn@home’. “WTF man” I asked myself. When did give me English India Today became a code for Debonair.  I smiled back at the guy on the bookstore counter and said, “You know ... I think I will read Business India this week’.

Yes. That’s my life. It’s full of surprises. Surprises which deeply embarrass me in front of my family. 

Why does electricity go off when it rains?

In school i was taught India has unity in diversity. When i grew up i found what was taught to me in school is correct. However, unfortunately, there is a difference between theory and practice; as i grew up i found India is one but not because of the reasons mentioned by my school teachers.

I don’t remember much of what was taught to me in school and it really doesn’t matter anymore because i have cleared my school exams and nobody is ever gonna bother me again with theoretical questions (except in a job interview where the interviewer has no clue of what i do). The truth is India has unity in diversity because whichever part of India you will visit you will find corrupt traffic cops, few anti-bachelor neighbors and an immediate power-cut whenever it will rain in your city.

Last night, just like every other average Indian guy, i was at  home, watching pirated downloaded movie on my laptop and waiting for my dabba. The dabbawalla came, knocked on my door, yelled ‘Sir, please eat your dabba. It’s raining’ and left. I yelled back, “Okay” and wondered, what is the relationship between rain and eating your dabba at 9 pm? Since i couldn’t figure it out i decided to take help from a higher authority and decided to google it. However, before i could google it  the internet connection stopped working.  Along with internet the tubelight and fan in my room also stopped working. The darkness in my room brought to  light the reason why my dabbawalla had asked me to immediately eat my dabba, but unfortunately it was too late. Also, since it rained all night in Pune electricity supply was not restored the entire night.  Somebody has rightly said “college education is no substitute for  street-smartness. “

In the morning i woke up to a rotating fan.  The power supply  was back and this  was a huge relief to me because now i could use google. I googled for relationship between rain and power cut. This google search led to the discovery of the second question of my life which even google couldn’t answer. (The first question being ‘What women what?’)  

Google’s failure meant i had to use my brain to figure out the relationship between rain and immediate power cuts. Although i am not as intelligent or resourceful as google i gave a serious thought to what co-relationship can exist between Variable A (Rain) and Variable B (Blackout). I think the reason our state electricity boards cut power when it rains is because they consider rain as a sign from God to enforce a blackout.

I know this might not be a perfect answer because it is from me and not from google but i still hope that you will agree with me. If you don’t then please kindly enlighten me with a better reason by typing in the comment box.

Revolution 20:20 ... Before you write its review ...

Chetan Bhagat’s new novel, Revolution 20:20, is now available on stands. I guess there are only three types of people who still don’t know about this:

1. People outside India. 
2. People that don’t have access to Twitter or TV. (ie People earning less than Rs 32 per day.) 
3. People for whom internet is equal to Email and Facebook. Email is for work and sending their CVs to friends and friends of friends. Facebook is for pics and chatting. (ie Orkutians on Facebook who click links which will tell you who visited your profile.) 

I purchased my copy of Revolution 20:20 today. I also have a blog. This makes me eligible to write a book review of Revolution 20:20 although last year i watched more movies based upon novels than the number of novels read by me. 

So what makes me eligible to review a best-selling author's book? Did i mention i have a Twitter account? Earlier you had to study hard and do some relevant work to become to an expert. Nowadays all you need is to just join Twitter. You don’t believe me. Check your timeline next time India is playing a cricket match. 

I guess all i want to say here is that if you are gonna trust my book review of Revolution 20:20 then i am sure you are gullible enough to accept that you have inherited your Nigerian Uncle’s fortune or won a lottery worth GBP 100 million or know who has visited your profile on Facebook.

Looking at the sales figure of Revolution 20:20 i am sure there are going to be lots of review of it. I am also sure most of them will be done by the following three kinds of people:

1. People have read CB’s earlier books and CB has not blocked them. A review saying it is a good story. 
2. People who have been blocked by CB on twitter. They will not review the book. They will tweet links telling you the book is now available on Flipkart for Rs 84. I guess these guys also judge people on the basis of the salary he/she earns. 
3. Wannabe writers. Review will be ….. you have guessed it, haven’t you? I wrote a 1,000 word blurb for this guy’s book. I hope in return my publisher is able to get a 20 word blurb for my book. 

The truth is whether you like it or not Revolution 20:20 is going to sell more copies this year than any other English novel in India. If you decide to review the book then please only review the book. After all if you think you are good enough to write a book review then i guess you must be good enough to your keep personal biases outside the review. If you don’t, you might get lots of comments on your blog but judging a book on the basis of its author is not the right way to write a book review.

To sum up

If you have read CB’s earlier books and enjoyed them you are going to love Revolution 20:20. If you have been blocked by CB on twitter there is no need to tell us at how much discount the book is now available. Only those who have been blocked by CB on twitter are interested in it and there are not many of them.

Please join the queue

George Bernard Shaw said patriotism is the conviction that your country is superior to others because you were born in it. I was born in India and hence India is the greatest nation for me. We have a great past, an economy that is growing at a breakneck speed and enough corruption that encourages Indians to migrate to USA.

From cows on roads to people talking in English with fake accent we have the best and worst in the world. Usually we tend to remember the best and shrug shoulders about the worst saying that’s the way things are. However, one of the best things that recently happened is that finally we have realized corruption is unacceptable and the worst is we all still long to have an out of turn chance.

Thanks to multiplexes we don’t have to stand in long queues and since we still don’t have enough multiplexes, single screen theatres have long queues and tickets are sold in black. Nothing wrong with that. It’s simple economics. The demand for tickets exceeds the supply and somebody is making money by hoarding tickets. Ok, not simple economics, just simple Indian economics. #IndianCulture

I don’t think it is wrong. Some people support the fight against corruption and find nothing wrong in purchasing tickets in black or bribing a traffic cop. My guess is the fight against corruption for these guys is a fight against people accepting bribes because as per them the payer of bribe is always a victim.

I don’t care about the black ticket market. What i really hate is when somebody approaches people standing near the ticket window and requests them to buy a ticket for him. The general attitude about it is that it’s nothing wrong as long as i do it. I know it is not illegal but definitely it is wrong.

I saw the same happening when i was standing in the queue for Harry Potter7 and i wondered what was the conversation between the person standing in queue and the guy with Rs 100 in hand:

SOB: (showing a Rs 100 note) Excuse me, please buy one ticket for me.

Guy in queue: Who me? Are you nuts? I stood for half hour to reach here and so many people are standing behind me. Look at the queue. It is so long. You want me to buy a ticket so that the last person in the queue won’t get a ticket for which he might have stood more than an hour. What is wrong with you? Do you want me to screw the last guy in the queue just because i could help you and feel nice?

SOB: Yes.

Guy in queue: Ok. (Takes the Rs 100 note).

You know this is all what is wrong about India. We are not bad people. We just love to please people and so we do things which we are not supposed to do. In fact we are such nice people that when we are standing at the end of a queue and see someone trying to purchase tickets by breaking the queue we don’t shout, “Boss, you are not handicapped and the queue is not that long. Please join the queue.”

Boling water, burning fingers

Few days back i visited a doctor and was diagnosed with stomach infection. The doctor told me to drink boiled water and i told her that i drink only Bisleri and beer. She replied, “Still, drink only boiled water.” I waited for her to add ‘Also only boiled beer’ but she didn’t mention it.

The reason i order a 20 liter bottle of Bisleri every week is not because i am rich but because i am lazy. The drinking water tap of the house i stay is on the ground floor and i stay on the first floor. Thanks to the mall revolution in India the only mode of travelling within floors i am now comfortable is escalators and lifts. Hence, i find the task of walking one floor down just to fetch 2-3 bottles of water as tedious as sitting in a meeting doing small talks with my boss until other team-losers (members) show up or send a message that they are too busy to attending meetings.

Today i poured water in a cauldron and put it on the gas for boiling. After few minutes i spotted something in the cauldron and to remove it inserted my finger in water. Yeah, i know what you are thinking. I am in cooking what Ravindra Jadeja is in international cricket. Total abject miserable abysmal failure.

The first thing i did after inserting my figure into water which was about to reach boiling point was to remove it. The second thing was to run to the washbasin and pour some water on it. The third thing was to switch off the gas. The fourth thing was to address myself in the language which truly shows i am a huge fan of Delhi Belly.

I still don’t get it. How could i have been so stupid or in Delhi Belly version, “Itna bada cutiyaapa kaise ho gaya?” I am the guy who in the 12^th class solved every question correctly before anybody else in the coaching class. This thing made me extremely popular among my coaching class teachers and extremely unpopular among my peers. Today most of the girls in my 12^th coaching class can cook Indian, Chinese…etc etc (etc etc depending what do their husbands like) and i cannot even boil water.

I am unable to fathom this incident of my life. I know i am a man with average IQ and poor cooking skills. Still this doesn’t explain the phenomena of my IQ falling to a 3 years old in front of boiling water? I just don’t understand the logic. I mean why?...Why did God gave me the ability to memorize tables till 30 but no ability to boil water?

The old video games

There are some video games that are immortal. You can play them irrespective of the age but probably the first time you played them was in a video game parlor with a friend when your height was half of what it is now.

I don’t remember the first video game i ever played. Was it a car race or some fight game? Got no memories of it. But i have got memories of Contra, Mario and Mortal Kombat4. The animations were stupid, the tasks simple and the fun unlimited. All i now remember is after playing for the first time i was hooked to them and my unit test marks suffered a lot. Yes, weekly unit tests….they were perfect preparation for office life where the next deadline starts approaching before you have achieved the one in hand.

Compared to modern realistic games our old video games have little to offer. I sometimes wonder how i will explain my favorite video games to my kids. Will i say to them in Pacman we raced a yellow circle that ate dots while being chased by clowns? In Tetris various blocks used to fall from sky which we had to arrange in a row and once arranged in a row, the row would disappear. Mario was about a man who was on a mission to save a princess. In that game we used to eat mushrooms, collect coins and jump on turtles.

Anyone remembers the Google Pacman doodle. When a colleague told me about it, i said i will play it just once. Just for old times sake. Then played it again, after all it just gonna take two more minutes, then again and again. I don’t remember how many times i played pacman on that day but few days later i read a news article that said pacman google doodle costed more than 100 million bucks to companies in wasted productivity. Most expensive google doodle ever. However, i never heard a single word against pacman doodle because i am sure most of the big boys in their big offices were playing pacman on that day.

Here is the link to that doodle. It is now a permanent webpage. Bookmark it. http://www.google.com/pacman/ ENJOY.

Meeting Offline

Couple of days back on Twitter a friend DMed me “I am in Pune. Would you like to meet on Tuesday, around 5?” The person who had sent me the DM is someone who regularly gives me feedback on my blogs which can be summed up as ‘You write ok but drink too much.”

I felt this is an opportunity to tell her i am not an alcoholic so i DMed back, “Sure. Barista. Aurora Towers. Ok?” She replied ok and i went back to watching a movie on my laptop.

Half an hour later i realized i have no idea how she looks and the only way she will be able to find me in Barista will be by approaching the fattest guy sitting in the café and asking, “Are you Abhishek?” So i DMed her my cell number and told her to call me when she reaches Barista. She replied with her cell number and an ok.

I reached in front of Barista and called her. She told me she is on the way. I thought for a while about entering in Barista and decided it is cheaper to walk on MG Road than having a good overpriced coffee.

Few minutes later i got a call from her saying she is standing in front of Barista and i told her to wait there. I reached Barista, we both greeted each other and then she pointing towards the door of Barista said, “Shall we go in?” and i replied, “Actually the coffee in there costs too much.”

Yes. I said to a girl whom i had met for the first time that let’s not have a coffee in Barista because it costs too much. This is one of those moments which my friends will always use to point out why you are single. It is also one of the moments where my Marwadi dad would be extremely proud of himself. This moment is the proof that he has successfully passed on all the essential Marwadi traits to his only son.

I am quite sure when my twitter friend heard no Barista because it costs too much she would have gone ‘What the hell’ in her mind but instead of that she replied , ”Then where do we sit?” I wanted to say, “You know it’s Pune. There must be same place nearby where we can have a cup of tea and vadapav.” I didn’t. Instead i said, “Let’s walk. It is MG Road. It has some very famous eateries.”

We found an old restaurant where we ordered something that might have cost 0.75 times of coffee in Barista and started talking. She told me about her work and i told her i feel looking at the tables that we are sitting in a very old restaurant.

Finally, it was time to part and i said to her i have seen an autorickshaw stand nearby. As we walked towards the auto stand she told to me, “You know there is one thing that i really wanted to ask you. I have seen a lot of your tweets on marriage or rather i must say anti-marriage tweets.” I told her i am a Marwadi Maheshwari and it is customary in our caste to get married within one year after post-graduation. She started giggling, then laughing and then laughing out loud. She stopped for a second and said, “As a Marwadi Maheshwari with such a personality it will be impossible for you to find a lifemate” and started laughing again. I wanted to say, “Thanks. I am doing my best to keep things that way” but i didn’t. I never got a chance to say it. She just wouldn’t stop laughing.

Luckily she saw an auto, waved her hand and the auto stopped. We both said goodbye and she left. I started walking towards Aurora towers and stopped in front of Barista. It has been a long time since i had a good cappuccino. Before i entered into Barista i remembered i had seen one of my favorite delicacies at the old restaurant in which we were sitting. I rushed back their, reached the counter and said, “One chocolate softy please.”

Diary of a Beer-a-holic

I think it all started during the first month of my first year in college. I was sitting in my room, playing Mortal Kombat (or Counter Strike or NFS, i don’t really remember). A guy in my hostel came to me and said, “You know what we are doing tonight?”

“Probably working on some stupid project”, i replied.

“No dude, not tonight. Tonight we all are partying on the terrace. Drinks, non-veg, everything.” He said.

I said cool and went back to the virtual world where i was beating the shit out of half-clad women or killing terrorists or killing cops or driving a Lamborghini. Totally dependent on the game i was playing.

My hostelmate waited for few seconds expecting i would say something after cool and realized i was more interested in PC games than him. So he blurted out the reason of his visit. He said,” Would you like to join us?”

I thought for a moment. Few days back we had got an Airtel Broadband connection in our room and since i was sharing room with another guy i never got a chance to test its speed. By saying no i would finally get some privacy and an opportunity to test the broadband’s speed by browsing through some of the popular video websites.

Unfortunately before i could say no to him another thought came to my mind. Whenever i watched old movies on TV there was one thing which i always felt fake. So i said yes, gave the contri and waited for the night where i will finally find out whether drunk people really talk like Keshto Mukherjee or not.

As i now remember it was one the best nights of my life. I ate non-veg for the first time, Chicken Biryani of which i only ate rice; had my first beer, Kingfisher; had my first whiskey, Royal Stag; had my first cigarette, choti Goldflake. The only thing i don’t remember is seeing my roommate during the party. Lucky Bastard guy. 


That night was beginning of a love affair. A love affair between me and beer. Ever since that night whenever i get a chance i drop into a bar and pick up a beer or two.

Looking at my past relationships i won't say i have been a nice guy. I have always been flirtatious by nature. I started with Kingfisher, had few one-night stands with Castle and Tuborg, fell to the charms of Foster, had a good time with Budweiser until some drunken guy told me Chutiye stop flushing your money down the loo, enjoyed my evenings with Haywards until i was seduced by Carlsberg. 

Life is so unpredictable. I thought i had found my soul-mate in Carlsberg when suddenly Kingfisher Ultra appeared in my life. The thing that people call as infatuation happened.  

I am in complete awe of those guys who can date two girls at one time. One thing they make shows like Emotional Atyachar possible and in my case i was having a tough time deciding whether i must dump Carlsberg or say to KF Ultra that i like you but i am in a serious relationship with someone else. 

Every time i visited a restro-bar with my friends, they started with checking out the chicks while i was going Carlsberg…..KF Ultra…… Carlsberg….KF Ultra in my mind. Damn. Life is so complicated. The only solution i could come up was to toss a coin. Head Carlsberg, tails KF Ultra.

Here, i would like to thank the govt of Maharashtra for helping me out. It increased the duty on beer by 100% at one stroke. The duty hike converted me into a dedicated family man and returned me to my first and real love of my life. Kingfisher Strong. 

I still remember the first sip i had after the duty hike. Kingfisher Strong behaved like an ideal bahu in Ekta Kapoor’s serials who wears sindoor, saree and feels naked until she have not adorned herself with at least 10 kgs of gold jewelry. She told me, “I know for the last few years you have been a complete asshole and i forgive you.” Thank you KF Strong. I love you too. I promise i will always remain faithful to you or until i move out of the State of Maharashtra.

Here is a trivia for the people that like and can still afford Carlsberg in Maharashtra. After the Second World War Winston Churchill was considered as a hero by the Dutch people because he had freed them from the Nazi rule. When he visited Copenhagen the Dutch decided to brew a special beer as a tribute to him. Yes, the Dutch send two crates of a lager to a man who smoked cigars and drank his scotch neat as a mark of respect and thanks.

If you know any beer trivia please tell me. There is a comment box at the end of this blog.

Cut to the present: I am sitting in a sonography clinic. There are 20 women, 4 men and uncountable number of children in the room. The women are sitting patiently for their turn, the men are sitting patiently for their turn, i am playing Blackjack on my mobile and the children are wreaking havoc.

I just don’t understand kids. What is their problem? This is a hospital and not a park. Please don’t turn it into a playground. I know children are angles on earth but sometime they do things which make you wish to send them back to heaven.

There was one interesting observation i made while sitting in the clinic for more than two hours. You remember Scorpion in Mortal Kombat. The guy who throws spear and says ‘Get over here’ to his opponents. Indian mother’s have the same ability.

Indian mother’s wherever they sit draw an imaginary Lakshman Rekha which their kids are not allowed to cross. Every time a kid reaches near the Lakshman Rekha, his/her mom shouts ‘Get over here’ and the child immediately returns back to his/her mother. Who would have thought Scorpion, one of the super-cool assassins, a total badass in the Mortal Kombat universe was inspired from the relationship between Indian mothers’ and their children.

Cut to one night before: I am lying on a table in a doctor’s clinic. The doctor has taken my blood pressure and is now busy punching my stomach.

“Does it hurt here?”

“Yes”

She gently punches few centimeters away from the last time and asks, “Does it hurt here?”

I want to say, “Dear Madam, let’s change places. I punch you and you tell me where it doesn’t hurt. I am an average fat Indian guy. I am not Superman, John Cena or the Great Khali although we both might weigh the same.” I don’t say it. I don’t think it is a good idea to cross the doctor who is gonna prescribe you medicines. 

Luckily the doctor is satisfied after 4-5 punches and we are now sitting across a table. She pulls out her prescription pad and start asking me questions.

Her first question is – “Do you drink?”

I wait for her to finish the question. Drink what madam? Water/ Tea/ Coffee/ Coke/ Pepsi/ Thumps Up/ Beer/ Whiskey/ Scotch/ Wine/ Piss/ Baba Ramdev ka Divya churn/ All of the above.

There is silence in the room for few seconds.

The doctor realizes i have not understood her question and asks, “Do you take hard drinks?”

“Only if you consider Beer as a hard drink”, I reply.

She says, “Hmm…..That explains a lot. Do you also eat a lot of Junk food?”

What type of question is this? I am a single guy living in a metro. I don’t eat fast food (junk as per her). I survive on it. 

I say yes.

She continues her interrogation and after every few questions scribbles something on her pad. What is this? Are we playing KBC? Do i win a pill for every question correctly answered?

The doctor hands me the prescription and as i pay her the consultation fees she says, “You know its nothing serious. But i will suggest you get a sonography done. Just as a precaution.”

Cut back to the present: Finally after waiting for more than two and a half hours the nurse opens the door and calls my name. I enter into the next room only to find i am now in a smaller room. What is this? Why i have been transferred from a spacious waiting room to a small, cramped one.

Why do doctors do such a thing? Is there some sort of a law which says before seeing the patient a doctor must transfer the patient into a smaller room? Was there some sort of a lottery for which patient the doctor will see next and i have won? Or is it the place where the nurses provide the patient some sort of counseling. You know the doctor is a nice guy. He really wants to help you. Hence, please don’t start crying or run away when you see the doctor tearing a pack of disposable syringes.

I am not scared of injections. The only thing that scares me is unrealistic deadlines at work. Bring on the injections. Bring on the Doctor. Now. Immediately. Please.

The nurse says the doctor will see you now and ushers me into a room where i see the doctor and a big machine with monitors. I want to ask the doctor what is an outdated mainframe computer doing here but i don’t. The rule Don’t-cross-the-doctor-who…….applies.

The doctor asks me to lie on a table behind a curtain, asks my name, then age, orders me to pull up my tshirt, loosen my jeans and turns up with a barcode scanner in hand.

The doctor presses me on the left side of my stomach with the barcode scanner and asks,”Does it pains here?” WTF. What is wrong with the whole medical profession? Why do you guys have to give me pain to know where i am experiencing pain?

The doctor tells me to turn on the left side and while hurting me with the barcode scanner asks what you do. I tell him my official designation in the organization and he asks me to turn on to the right side.

As he continues hurting me, he asks me whether the job is stressful. I want to say nowadays which thing is not stressful. I saw few kids in the waiting room and after two hours i wanted to perform Mortal Kombat Fatalities on each one of them. Imagine the stress their mothers who spend 24x7x365 with them have. I reply, “Little bit”.

The doctor says we are done and please wait outside for your report. I say thanks, collect my report and as i am walking out of the clinic i remember something i had read few months before on the back of a beer bottle. MRP Rs 110. For sale in Maharashtra State only. Consumption of Liquor is injurious to health.

Now only if the guys at United Breweries and SamMiller could tell us how much.

To sum up

As far as i know everybody nowadays lives a stressful life. The only person i know who lives a stress free life is my boss because i think he has got a PhD in Office Politics. 

Yeah, that’s true

My theory of dealing with new joinees is simple. It is – Don't tell them the truth, let them discover it. When I am introduced to a new joinee I put on a smile as big as that of the Joker in Batman and say - Welcome to the organization. The truth is I always want to say - Welcome to hell. When new joinees ask me for help I tell them I am busy right now. Okay. That's not a lie. I am always busy in office. I tweet a lot. So what I am not working. I am busy.

Last Monday a new joinee joined my team. Since the team leader was absent I had to spend few minutes telling him about the awesome work we do and the not so awesome he will be doing for us. I showed the new joinee our products which he appreciated and told him we do such great work because we are dedicated, hard working employees and expect him to become one. Okay. That's a lie. We are not model employees but I was just following my theory of not telling the truth to the new joinees. Also it won't be nice for the new joinee to discover on day one of his new job that the job sucks.

After I had given the orientation to the new joinee I gave him the path where various company manuals were saved and told him to read them thoroughly. As the writer of few manuals for the company I know how dense they are and the only thing a fresher can do with them is to read them till he gets bored and then tweet – First day of the job and it has already started to suck. #FML

Lunch time came and I asked the new joinee to join my group for lunch. My lunch group is like mini India. There is too much diversity but there is one thing that unites us all. The great thought that unites us is that we all think our work sucks.

My lunch group consists of people from the Marketing to the IT support dept. We have nothing in common and still like each other. There is also minority representation i.e. their is one guy from production dept which is me. I think the reason I like the people in my lunch group is because I don't work with them. Once we will start working together on a project, we will start exchanging emails and then I will start hating them and they will start hating me. The email theory of the more work emails you exchange with a person, the more you think that person does nothing all day except forwarding you emails with the addition FYI from his/her side.

We had lunch and most of the people in my lunch group left. Only four people were still sitting. One from the IT support, one from marketing and me and the new joinee from production. The marketing guy was finishing his dabba and he asked me, "Oh….I heard you have quit."

There was silence for a moment. The new joinee was sitting next to me. I couldn't have said the reasons I resigned in front of him. There are some things which are better if the new joinees discover them by their own reasoning instead of someone telling them in advance for example cubicle blues. So I said, "Yeah, that's true" and left the table.

To sum up

I have quit. I won't say I don't have any regrets because I have one. I should have done it much earlier.

Mind vs Heart

I don't hate Mondays. I only hate working on Mondays. I spend every Sunday watching movies, drinking beer and every Monday morning my mind spends few minutes convincing my heart that I am not sick and must attend office.

One of the biggest tragedies of my life is that every Monday morning I wake up and find myself not sick. I believe I have fever, common cold, body pain or any possible disease that will allow me take a sick leave and will disappear as soon as I call my boss and say, "I am not feeling well, Can't come, have a nice Monday. Bye Bye." 


Unfortunately, my mind knows that my heart is a coward and can easily be conquered with fear. The fear that my boss will catch my lie just because he too might have done the same on few Mondays when he was not a boss is good enough to make my heart surrender to my mind and take me to office. I know it is a long, stupid and grammatically  incorrect argument but it always works.

Every Monday my mind conquers my heart and takes me to the place which I hate the most, my office. Okay that's not true. The place I hate the most is Pakistan but my office is also full of terrorists. A Pakistani terrorist's job is to drop explosive bombs whereas an office terrorist's job is to drop email bombs. Bombs of Pakistani terrorists kill you whereas bombs of office terrorists make you wish that you were dead. Murder or encouragement for suicide. End result is the same. You die.

Today when I woke up my heart said don't go to office and my mind said go. Before my mind could use its dirty trick of terrorizing my heart, my heart said to my mind, "You know what the cricket score is? Sachin is going to score his 50th test century today. Instead of watching it you want to read this historical moment on cricinfo. I feel so sad to be part of a body that has a brain like you."

My brain was totally dumbfounded. He just didn't know what to say. The heart had just pawned my brain with its awesome argument. My brain remained silent for few minutes and then replied, "STFU heart. Abhishek, get the beep out of bed before the beep heart beeps your beeping life." My heart asked doesn't beep means fuck and my mind replied, "Yes and you are the one who is to be blamed for all the beeping. It is you who instead of downloaded pirated movies made Abhishek watch Big Boss 4. Now suffer. Beep you heart and you lazy beep ass still in the bed, start getting ready for office. Beep Beep Beep. We are going to get a late mark today."

This was a complete role reversal situation for me. My heart was using logic to convince my mind and my mind was beeping to make my heart shut up. I knew my heart was right. I also knew my mind was asking me to do the right thing. Mind vs Heart. Cricket vs Work. It was simple decision. Cricket is what I love and work is what pays my bills. Money cannot buy happiness but……..as part of the great young Indian generation driven by consumerism I know one thing – No money, no happiness. So I got out of bed and reached office hoping Sachin won't mind one less fan cheering him today.

To sum up

Heart vs Mind = Cricket vs Work = Story of every Indian = Cricket rules my heart and work my mind.