Biometric Pain

Mr Chidambaram what have you done sir? Why are you trying to change things for better? You were a much loved person as a finance minister. Now as a home minister you are (I guess) the most hated person in the government circle. The Maoists already hated you.( you are always up their ass). And now your very own government employees hate you. Why have you done this Sir? Why the hell do you want to introduce ‘Biometric Attendance System’ in government offices? Why do you want to track these employees’ attendance? They are so used to signing in the register, which is so difficult to track. And now everyone is protesting. Employees in most of the government offices are breaking these machines…or putting glue inside the sensor. They will sabotage this noble effort of you sir…they will. The noble professors are also not happy. How dare you question their commitment…they are teachers sir….teachers…Nation Builders. Why do you want them to spend a certain amount of time regularly inside the classes? This will make the students more intelligent sir, which in turn will fuel the GDP growth….not good Sir..not good at all. Let them enjoy their life Sir. They only have one life to waste. They are used to it. If you push more they will go to strike and the students will suffer. Delhi University Teachers Union are already contemplating a strike! Leave the useless sarkari karmachari alone Sir…please. These useless idiots are good for nothing. And we tax payers are used to it. Don’t jeopardize our life in this way…cause I know the kind of person you are you won’t quit this biometric initiative so easily. And ‘strikes’ are inevitable! And we will suffer.

Sir if you are really serious about ‘Biometric Attendance’ then do us a favor. Terminate those employees who do not want to comply. I know riots will happen…political pressure will be upon you to terminate your Biometric plans. But please do not quit sir. These government employees are so used to taking their pay cheque without doing anywork that they wont put their hands down easily. But I am sure with your iron resolve things will fall in line. So fire a few of these Sarkari Karmachari. Start with those ghost employees of MCD. Start it sir. Firing is the best way. We tax payers will support you fully in this. To make our country a better place we are ready to bear the temporary pain. Jai Hind!

Can we have this fundoo product Mr Banker?

My travel writer friend is getting extremely impatient these days. He hates this big city ‘Delhi’ and wants to break free from the ‘stifling corporate life’. But then to pay the bills he needs to go on. My condition is kind of similar. But I can’t do this so early. He has reached a stage where he possibly can take a call. Today he told me that he wants to live in a small village up in the mountains. A village where everybody knows everybody… a place where the entire population falls asleep by 10pm…a place from where he can see the snow capped mountain blessing him every morning. The perfect place where he can write his novel uninterrupted. But then to live this kind of a dream life one needs to have a constant flow of income. We are not Ambanis! So I told him to take a pension plan and keep investing heavily over the next 10 years. And keep his exposure to equity at high level. He should be able to have a good corpus even at an average growth of 10% per year. Equity gives good returns over the long term. But the problem is Inflation.


Inflation is the monster which eats away everything. Look at the food prices growing astronomically every week. The humble potato quoting Rs 25 per kg! How will my friend sustain? I think there should be a product which will take care of the inflation. Like a bond which gives…say 6% post inflation…the inflation can be whatever amount...the rate of returns remains at 6%. So if inflation is at 12% the rate of return is at 18%. I guess no bank has the balls to devise a product like this. Inflation is something on which hardly anyone has control. How can they factor that in their product? But then I ask why not? You bankers and the Investment Bankers (now almost extinct) guys are speculators…So speculate guys! Charge us money and gives us the product! I bet that if a product like this come in the market it will be a huge hit…specially with the senior citizens and people nearing their retirement. A 5 year fixed deposit can look attractive at 8% but with inflation shooting to 10% the return turns negative. :(

Is anybody listening? Can we have this fundoo product Mr Banker?

Have you ever run away from your home?

Have you ever run away from your house? ‘No’ is the answer……..right? Most of the worldly people never runs away from their house. But some have the achievement to their credit! And I am one of them! You must be thinking Achievement Huh! Yes… I believe it is an achievement. You need extreme guts topped with loads of frustration, anger, shame, rebellious mindset to achieve this feat. It’s a cocktail of red hot stuff! And once like many others I had this cocktail! How was the taste? Well you need to run away from your house to know it.

I did this honorable thing when I was in the Sixth standard. This is the age when parents dream about their Child’s future. And like every other mom, my mom was concerned about my future. Oneday after seeing one of my sketch she had the audacity to dream that I have the skills of becoming the next Maqbool Fida Hussein. No No…I did not paint anybody nude! I remember clearly the day when my mother spotted the budding painter in me. It was a Sunday afternoon. Both my parents were sleeping. I tip toed out of the bed. I had nothing to do. And I decided to do a sketch to kill time. I did a pencil sketch of ‘Radhe Krishna’ together in my drawing book. Well even till today I am super confused how the hell it turned out so well! Probably when you paint God something supernatural happens! My mother seeing the painting wanted me to join a drawing school. Now most of my friends did this and that apart from the boring studies. Some learnt karate, some cricket, some were into theatre. So I readily agreed. And I joined a local drawing school. And pretty soon my teacher found me out to be pathetic with colors. I sketched well. But soon after few weeks he told us to start using water colours. And he also wanted us to do pastel colour mixing. Man it got real tough! I did a mockery of myself with the brushes. And I started hating going there. But the young teacher was adamant. He seemed hell bent in converting me in to some kind of a Pablo Picasso. Soon the exam dates arrived. Enough is Enough! I bunked my class. Those days there were no cell phones etc. So it was hard for people to find it out. I went straight to the river side and spent two hours there. I was always a nature lover. I spent around two hours watching the sparkling water, the birds returning home along with the fishermen, the sunset over the river, the salty wind caressing my face. Soon it went dark and I started walking towards my home. An uncle who stayed in our sector saw me. He was returning home from his office in his bicycle. He smiled. I smiled. No suspicion at all. But I was wrong. He told my parents that I was seen near the river side, all alone. I understand his concern…but a child should have little freedom man! When I arrived home I found my mother waiting at the gates.

“Nodir dhare ki korchilis tui eka eka” (what were you doing alone at the riverside), my mother boomed.
“I went there after my drawing class to observe the river for my homework” I tried to look poetic and sensible.
“Don’t lie. I know you didn’t go to the drawing class.”
How did she know? Ufff…mothers are too much. They are capable of catching the lie just by looking at the eyes!

And the action started when my dad came. He hit me black and blue. Told me to get out of the house. And I obliged. The power cut aided my runaway. I went out and took shelter in the nearby park. But it looked Childish! If I am hiding I need to hide in a proper place. And also in some place where people won’t look for me. (Imagine Jab We Met. Shahid and Kareena hiding on rooftop). So I went to the back of our building which had lot of trees. A canal passed through that place and there was a rickety bridge over it. I crossed the bridge and positioned myself behind a tree. It was dangerous. The place was dark and scary. But then people who run away need to be ‘daring’.

And soon people started looking for me. Every fifteen minutes I went to the other side and had a close look. I could hear known voices. All in the hunt! Sunny wanted Alive! Our house was in the ground floor. I tiptoed near the window from the back. My mom was crying. Dad was sitting with a grim face. Lot of neighbors gathered inside. Everybody had one question “Where did sunny run away? He is a kid and hope nothing bad happens to him.”

Soon my maternal uncle who was staying with us for his office work found me out. He had the intelligence to look at ‘one’s own backyard’. And I was violently brought back home. I didn’t want to return. He had to pull my ears to get me inside. And I was in. What a warm welcome I had! People consoled me instead of abusing me. My mother gave me a glass of warm milk. Wah! I never knew I was so much loved by all! So much concern! I was flattered! I promised myself that I will run away once a month. Well I didn’t keep that promise.

Today after so many years when I remember those days I feel nostalgic. What is life? Nothing but a bagful of memories that soon gets lost in oblivion. I wish those Indians who have stashed away Rs 1400 billion of black money in Swiss banks realized this.

Playing Devil For a Week!

I am getting very bad these days! I want people too lose money. I generally get this urge once a year during the Last week of November. Two years back during that time I lost Rs 35000 in few hours. I was day trading and I went short while the sexsex tanked bigtime. And I got screwed bigtime in the process. You want to know the stock name? Rei Agro! It killed me man. I bought few thousand at 92 using my leverage exposure. And it sweetly went down to 72 before I decided to sell everything off. And how lucky I was. It touched the abysmal depth of 60. Where the fuck was the circuit breaker? Bottomline this loss made me close my demat a/c forever. I promised myself that stocks are too hot and I donot have the balls to handle such hot stuff. Mutual funds are better for people who lack the balls…or should I say more risk averse?

But although I don’t trade I do trading indirectly. How? I advise my friends in office! I just give them tips....mostly during November end to celebrate my loss. And why would they take my tips? Why not? I have made an image of a guy who is an astute trader. Someone who knows the nuances of stock market like the palm of his hand. Deception is an art man! Just practice! It satisfies me so much when I see people losing money. But I do not directly advice them. What I have done is I have fabricated a story regarding befriending a young CFO in a cocktail party. As for his qualifications go he is an alumnus of London School of Economics and a CFA. Pretty respectable Huh? And whatever tips I convey...it flows indirectly… it is the CFO who has told me and I am doing a favour to everybody by sharing it. And I am a preety good story teller. I was about to enter a Film Institute as a student of “Direction and Screen Play writing”. So my skills are unquestionable! And I also believe in “if you can’t convince then just confuse”. Most of my preys fall in line when they hear CFO fundas. Too hard to resist type. Like I tell them Fidelity has picked up 28 lakh share in a block deal in xyz company. In two months this xyz company is going to be acquired by a blue chip at a huge premium. The balance sheet is not well so the company is looking for a buyer. And before anybody calls foul I stop my deception. I just do it for just a week maximum. It’s my way to celebrate my loss. You want to kick my ass……isn’t it? Kick it…I am least bothered.

My advice to all those people who trades on rumors…beware. Use your own judgment (if you have any)! There are thousands of devils like me who wants some long term fun! I am just a Kid in front of them. And you don’t want to be prey to those devils? Right?

Baba cholo na! O Baba!

Somebody whom I respect a lot had told me that if one has the destroying aspiration to be a writer then one has to perfect the art of eavesdropping. You can’t just keep imagining and make your stories…your stock will finish soon or late. And then you have to borrow from here and there. Newspapers can provide you certain bites…but then those bites are available to all the dogs like me! And it’s a dog eat dog world! So people’s conversation is the best source for your stories, for your essays, for your rantings and other blah blah. So for the last one year I am trying to practice this art. Initially when I started eavesdropping I dragged myself close to dangerous situations. Once I got almost beaten by a strong wellbuild hairy Sardarji. And what was my fault. A hot Punjabi kudi was chatting animatedly with some not so hot Sardarji. Husband and wife: pathetic combination, I was a better candidate. Anyway I wanted to overhear. They were seating in one of the benches opposite the Woodlands showroom in the mall. I positioned myself few feet away from the lady. I kept looking at the Woodland showroom scanning shoes. She was complaining about Sardarji not coming home early. The Sardarji was giving excuses. And she told that Sasuma keeps saying that Khush Khabar kab sunne ko milega. I understood what she was trying to convey. If Sardarji is not much available with the Sardarni, how the newborn will arrive! I was hooked. Interesting material for my story. And then the Sardar boomed at me “Bhaisahab! Aap tab se picche khare ho! Koi problem boss?”. I tiptoed out like a mouse. But these days my ear has become much trained. I can follow conversations from a distance! Just like I take my measurements from a distance! And by and by I have developed an Eavesdrop database! It’s fully loaded in my head! But off late I hear no more interesting conversations! Am I getting rusty? Or the world is becoming a grimmer place? Last week when I was roaming around in the Center Stage mall I overheard something extremely painful. A little kid accompanied by his mom and dad were standing in front of Archies. The kiddo probably wanted to venture in. And the dad didn’t want any more expenses. They were already carrying lot of packets! The boy seemed hell bent in entering inside.

“Baba cholo na! O Baba” the boy gushed in Bengali.
“Cant you say daddy? How many times do I need to tell you this son? Don’t say baba! Say daddy.” Boomed his father with his paunh and balding head. He was agitated.

Nice upward movement! This is what happens to most of the Indian families who leave their states and get settled in the big cities like Delhi and Mumbai. They want to forget their roots and embrance English! Made me remember my Indian friend who believes that this country is shit. USA is paradise! I think Raj should focus his “Marathi Manoos” campaign such a direction that a child can fearlessly say ‘daddy’ in Marathi without fearing his dad scolding him for not saying it in English. And I am sure if he does this he will win a few hearts!

Anyway I am continuing my eavesdropping. Yes, it is getting more and more painful. But I am an optimist! I know someday I will overhear something interesting! Something that will make you smile too!

Sufi: Bullet in his balls!

When somebody starts comparing with Arundhati Roy with the literary giant Anton Chekhov: we have a situation down here. Somebody has gone mad. And who is this mad guy? A guy called Mayank Austen Sufi. This guy is a good photographer, could be better writer and a pathetic Arundhati lover. His blog is published in Hindustan Times under the name of Delhiwalah. You can read his blog at http://thedelhiwalla.blogspot.com/. I won’t say his writing is bad but then it’s nothing better than average. He just gets over board too many times. And his besotted love for Arundhati Roy makes things worse for me. I have a friend who aspires to be the next Pankaj Mishra. Well he is more talented than this Sufi…..did I sound audacious? I don’t think so! But then why is Sufi more popular? Luck? Probably. Sufi more hard working then my friend? Again probably! But what is the main thing that keeps him much ahead than my friend….well I think it’s the energy. I admit that Sufi has oodles of energy. And when one has nothing to worry about (roti kapda makan) and tries to focus himself on certain particular thing…success comes easily. You must be thinking why I am bitching about this Sufi?? What has he done? He is successful, happy and famous! So whats wrong? Well I am jealous of him man! He is doing what I always want to do…so I have decided to torment him, to mock him, to beat the hell out of him. You know what is the very first line of this Sufi’s blog http://thedelhiwalla.blogspot.com? “The Delhi Walla's pretension in writing makes me want to lodge a bullet in his balls”, Blogger Nimpipi, the woodchuck chucks. Come on sufi……be ready for the bullet in your balls. And I am sure my upcoming Pankaj Mishra friend will join me in this useless bitching. We don’t have better things to do! I have gone mad! Now get away from this blog before you go mad. Go! Run! Take cover! I will burst all the balls!

Haircut! Finally!

Yesterday I finally had my haircut. The last time I had my hair cut was almost two months back. And my hair grows real fast. So it was kind of a jungle on top of my head. Why didn’t I cut my hair early? Reason is that mein behek gaya tha. I decided to keep long hair in order to look cool. Initially I tried my best to follow the rules. I shampooed it, oiled it, geled it, washed it, nursed it regularly. But the enery was with me for only two weeks. And I lost the energy in few weeks itself. I told myself enough is enough. I am no Bollywood hero! Neither am I a photographer! Neither am I a fashion designer. I am just a boring guy with a boring job with a boring kind of life! So no point in trying to change my boring life with some exciting long hair aping some Bollywood hero. So I decided to chop it off and get my sanity back. My hair has grown phenomenally and instead of making me look cool made me look like a walking forest reserve. And maintaining it was getting expensive and consumed too much of my fucking time! So I went to saloon yesterday to get rid of the mess. While I was having my haircut a little boy also came for a haircut accompanied by his father. His dad told him “Beta agar kuch style karana hain to Bhaiya ko bata do”. The boy got his hair styled like the style of Ranbir Kapoor in “Wake up Sid”. He looked cool. And I got lost in the thoughts of my childhood. How our local barber used come every fourth Sunday at our colony to give all the kids a haircut. We used to sit on a chair under a tree across the road while Gopal uncle, the barber khusi khusi sized our hair. Once we were done the elders got their cutting and shaving done. It became kind of a get together with everyone waiting for their turn and chatting. In the winter tea was also served by some over enthusiastic aunties. I almost fell asleep. It feels so good with the synchronous movement of the comb and scissor.

“Sir ho gaya”
I woke up startled. My face was looking like a football now with all the hair gone. He has really made it short.
“Yaar tumne bahut hi chota kar diya! Itna chota maine thori bataya tha.” I shouted seeing my hair.
“Sir apne kuch bataya hi nahi”
My haircut made me look like a Jawan ready to get posted at Baramullah in North Kashmir! But then I consoled myself thinking that at least for the next two months I will have no need to visit the salon. The boy beside me was now getting a facial.
“Sir aur kuch kar du? Shaving? Facial?
“No. This is enough!” I barked.
“Sir you have lot of blackheads! If you take facial these will go” and he pinched my nose to get some blackhead out. He showed them to me proudly.
“Chor yaar! I am now married! I have no longer the need to look good. Bas massage kar de thora sar pe” I gushed.
“Sir shadi ke baad to jyada facial karani chaiye. Competition ki jamana hain Sir! Bhabiji will feel good if you look good Sir. Kara du fruit facial. Mast glow karega skin”

“Kara de mere bhai. Kara de” I smiled and looked smugly at the boy. Buddy I will also look like you!