महिमा श्री चपरासी जी की

हर दफ्तर में साहब को लगता है कि सब कुछ उनके हुक्म से चल रहा है और बाबू को लगता है कि सब उसकी कलम की महिमा है। लेकिन एक शख्स ऐसा है जिसके होने का सबब आज तक कोई नहीं समझ पाया। हर सरकारी ऑफिस में किसी साहब के चैंबर के बाहर कुर्सी या स्टूल पर या किसी साहब के पीछे फ़ाइल उठाए आपको सफ़ेद या ख़ाकी वर्दी पहने यह शख्स नज़र आ जाएगा जिसे चपरासी या peon कहते हैं।

ये समझना असाना नहीं है की चपरासी जी करते क्या हैं। ये अँग्रेजी सरकार के भारतीय ज़मीन पर किए जाने वाले अनेक अचंभित कर देने वाले आविष्कारों में से एक है। 'साहब' तो अंग्रेज़ खुद थे, सो उन्होने दो नई जातियों के आविष्कार किए। एक तो 'बाबू' जिसकी जितनी बातें की जाएँ कम हैं, और दूसरा 'चपरासी'। चपरासी का कोई work plan नहीं होता, उसके कोई targets भी नहीं होते। लेकिन फिर भी चपरासी सरकारी तंत्र का एक अभिन्न अंग है। 

अक्सर साहब के चैंबर के बाहर बैठा चपरासी सबसे उच्च कोटि का  चपरासी होता है। एक तो उसके पास बैठने को अपनी कुर्सी होती है और इस मामले में वो साहब और बाबू के समतुल्य होता है। दूसरे ये कि साहब के चैंबर में प्रवेश का एकाधिकार सिर्फ उसके पास होता है। वो चाहे तो आपको एक मिनट में साहब से मिलवा दे या फिर वो अपनी पे उतार आए तो किसी मायावी मीटिंग में साहब को इतना busy बता दे की आप कभी साहब से मिल ही न पाएँ। ऐसे चपरासियों के नाम नहीं होते। पहले गोरे साहब इन्हें "कोई है?" के नाम से बुलाते थे और अब भूरे साहब अपनी table पर लगी घंटी बजा कर बुलाते हैं। घंटी बजाने वाले साहब को अक्सर ये नहीं पता होता की घंटी सुनने वाला चपरासी कहाँ से अचानक प्रकट हो जाता है। और साहब के आदेश के पालन के बाद फिर से अंतर्ध्यान हो जाता है। परंतु उच्च कोटि का चपरासी होना किसी चपरासी के लिए केवल गर्व का नहीं बल्कि चिंता की भी विषय होता है। जीतने बड़े साहब का चपरासी उतना ही ज़्यादा काम। 

जो छोटे साहब लोगों के चपरासी होते हैं, उनमें भी एक अलग attitude होता है जो न सिर्फ आने वाली आम जनता पर दिखता है बल्कि साहब को भी उस attitude का शिकार होना पड़ता है। कई बार घंटी बजाने के बाद भी जब चपरासी नहीं आता तो साहब को मजबूरी में आकर खुद ही पानी लेकर पीना पड़ता है और इससे ज़्यादा अपमानजनक बात किसी भी सरकारी साहब के लिए कुछ और नहीं हो सकती की उन्हें पानी भी खुद ही लेकर पीना पड़ता है। 

चपरासियों की भी कई श्रेणियाँ होती हैं। कुछ जो दफ्तर के बड़े साहब के साथ लगे होते हैं उनके कपड़े बर्फ की तरह उजले और कंधे पर किसी सौन्दर्य प्रतियोगिता की विजेता की तरह के sash भी होता है, और कभी कभी एक ऊंची पगड़ी भी। लेकिन जो मध्यम दर्जे के साहब का चपरासी होता है, वो साल में केवल एक बार अपनी वर्दी धुलवाता है, और जिस चपरासी की duty किसी बाबू के साथ होती है, वो अपने को सदैव छुट्टी पर ही मानता है और वर्दी तभी पहनता है जब उसका mood होता है। 

मुझ जैसे नौसिखिए जो अपनी पानी की बोतल खुद लेकर आते हैं और जो चाय भी नहीं पीते, जो अपने चैंबर का दरवाजा खुद खोल्न और बंद करना जानते हैं और जिन्हें फ़ाइल उठाने में भी कोई तकलीफ नहीं होती, उन्हें चपरासी बड़ी हिकारत और नफरत भरी निगाहों से देखते हैं। उनमें ऐसी कानाफूसी होती रहती है कि ये भी भला कोई साहब हैं जो खुद स्कूल के बच्चे की तरह पानी की बोतल लेकर दफ्तर आते हैं। साहब तो एओ फलां-फलां साहब थे जिनके आने से पहले चपरासी दरवाजा खोले, कमरे की बत्ती और पंखा चलाये कुर्सी खींचने के लिए तैनात रहते थे। उन साहब के पीने का पानी चपरासी गिलास में डालकर उसपर ढक्कन भी रख दिया करते और पानी पीते ही तुरंत refill करने के लिए दौड़ पड़ते। एक और चपरासी तो उनके साथ गाड़ी में सिर्फ दरवाजा खोलने और पानी पिलाने के लिए ही बैठता था। वो ठाठ भी क्या ठाठ थे। ये तो गरीब साहब हैं। खुद ही अपना बैग उठाते हैं और खुद ही अपनी फ़ाइल एक कमरे से दूसरे में लेकर चले जाते हैं। 

ऐसे नौसिखिये साहब लोगों की वजह से चपरासियों की कीमत कम हो जाती है। क्योंकि अगर हर साहब अपनी गाड़ी का दरवाजा भी खोलने लगें और अपने चैंबर का दरवाजा भी; अगर वो खुद ही बत्ती जला भी लें और बुझा भी लें और पानी भी खुद ही लेकर पी लें तो कैसे चलेगा भला? और तो और अगर साहब लोग बिना चपरासी के पर्ची लाये सबसे मिलने लगे तो चपरासी की power ही क्या रह जाएगी। ऐसे साहब खतरा हैं चपरासी समाज के लिए और इनका विरोध करना चाहिए। 

साब! कुछ चाय पानी ?

मैं चाय नहीं पीता। और ये मेरी सबसे बड़ी मुसीबत है। ऐसा नहीं है कि मुझे चाय पसंद नहीं है। मुझे हर मीठी चीज़ पसंद आती है। लेकिन चाय मुझे कुछ खास नहीं भाती। न तो उसे पी कर मुझे कोई ऊर्जा मिलती है और न उससे मेरी थकान भागती है। हाँ! अगर ठंड बहुत हो तो एक गरम चाय का कप मैं इंकार नहीं करता। फिर भी चाय मेरे लिए सिर्फ एक गरम पेय से ज़्यादा नहीं है और उसकी जगह अगर गरम दूध भी मिल जाए तो भी काम चल जाए। 

लेकिन अफसोस ये है कि मेरे आस पास बाकी लोग बहुत चाय पीते हैं। और चाय भी सबको अपने-अपने प्रकार की चाहिए। अगर आप चाहें तो लोगों की पसंद की चाय के आधार पर उनकी पर्सनलिटी का पता लगा सकते हैं। मेरे पापा और भैया काफी मीठी चाय पीते हैं और दोनों ही ज़िंदगी को लेकर कभी कोई खास टेंशन नहीं लेते जबकि मेरी बहन और पत्नी कम चीनी और तेज़ पत्ती की चाय पीती हैं और दोनों है भी काफी तेज़। कुछ लोगों को कुल्हड़ की चाय में स्वाद आता है और कुछ लोगों को फाइव स्टार होटलों में मिलने वाली 'दूध-अलग-चीनी-अलग' वाली चाय में। गरीब आदमी शरीर की थकावट मिटाने को चाय पीता है और अमीर मन को आराम पहुंचाने के लिए। ज़्यादातर लोगों को चाय की ऐसी तलब होती है कि सुबह उठते ही बिस्तर पर बेड-टी चाहिए। कुछ लोगों को खाने के तुरंत बाद चाय पसंद है और कुछ को ऑफिस से घर आते ही।

लेकिन भाई साहब मैं उन अभागों में से हूँ जो चाय के शौकीन नहीं। पर चाय का शौकीन न होना  इतना आसान भी नहीं है। ये कोई हिन्दु धर्म जैसा थोड़े ही है कि मंदिर जाओ न जाओ रहोगे तो हिन्दू ही। ये तो जी आजकल की राजनीति के हिन्दुत्व जैसा है, या तो आप चाय के शौकीन और पक्षधर हैं या फिर चाय के दुश्मन। और ऐसे माहौल में चाय से दुश्मनी लेना कोई छोटी मोटी बात नहीं।

जब तक मैं स्कूल में था तो न कोई उम्मीद करता था कि मैं चाय पीऊँ और न ही कोई पूछता ही था। लेकिन जब कॉलेज पहुंचा तो देखा कि दोस्तों के साथ वक़्त बिताने के लिए चाय पीना बड़ा ज़रूरी है। हम सब दोस्त हॉल 3 की कैंटीन में चाय और समोसे के लिए अक्सर जाया करते। जब दोस्त चाय पीते तो मैं समोसे खा लेता और अक्सर बिना चाय पीए ही लौट आता। हम अक्सर सुबह सुबह एम टी जाते चाय पीने एक लंबे नाइट आउट के बाद। लेकिन मैं वहाँ भी एम टी के पकौड़े और जलेबी दही के लालच में ही जाता था। चाय तो तभी पी पाता था जब बहुत ठंड होती थी। जब कॉलेज से घर जाता छुट्टियों में तो मम्मी पूछती की चाय पीनी शुरू की या नहीं और हर बार ये सुन कर खुश हो जातीं की उनका लाल अब भी चाय की लत से दूर है।

कॉलेज के बाद जब सेल्स की नौकरी लगी तो लाइफ इतनी आसान नहीं रह गयी। मुझे एरिया सेल्स मैनेजर के रूप में काफी बड़ा एरिया मिला जिसमें पंजाब भी शामिल था। पंजाब के लोग खाने पीने के शौकीन हैं इसमें बताने जैसी कोई बात नहीं है। खाने का तो मैं भी शौकीन था ही। सो मैंने सोचा कि खूब जमेगी पंजाब में अपनी। हर दुकान पर जाते ही दुकान वाला चाय के लिए पूछता और मैं मुस्करा कर मना कर देता कि मैं चाय नहीं पीता। कुछ तो इस बात से दुखी हो जाते लेकिन कुछ और बदले में लस्सी या छाछ या लेमन सोडा ऑफर कर देते। एक महीने के बाद मेरे एक सेल्स ऑफिसर ने कहा, "बॉस, मार्केट में लोग आपसे कुछ खुश नहीं हैं और ये अफवाह उड़ रही है कि नए मैनेजर कुछ ज़्यादा ही अक्खड़ और नखरे वाले हैं।" मैं चकरा गया। जब मैंने इसका कारण पूछा तो उसने बताया कि लोग कहते हैं कि ये मैनेजर तो हमारे यहाँ कि चाय तक नहीं पीता। मेरी उस दिन समझ में आया कि चाय कितनी ज़रूरी है इंसानी रिश्तों के लिए। चाहे आप इसे सेल्स का प्रैशर कहें या मेरी इंसानियत, मैंने चाय के ऑफर पर हाँ कहना शुरू कर दिया।

फिर क्या था। मैं एक दिन में करीब दस से पंद्रह दुकानों में जाता था और हर दुकानदार मुझे चाय पीने को कहता। मैं हाँ कह देता और शाम तक दस पंद्रह कप चाय पीकर मेरी हालत खस्ता हो जाती। लेकिन इन चाय के प्यालों ने मुझे पंजाब के उन दूकानदारों से ऐसी दोस्ती करवा दी कि फिर चाय सिर्फ चाय न रह गयी। कभी कोई गोल्डेन टैम्पल के पास वाले कुल्चे खिलाता तो कोई जलंधर की हवेली की पूरी सब्ज़ी और कोई पठानकोट के दाल के पकोड़े। मैं भी चाय के साथ मिलने वाली ऐसी ललचाने वाली चीजों के चक्कर में चाय पीता चला गया और जैसे तैसे अपने सेल्स के तीन चार साल पंजाब के चाय को झेलते बिता दी। और फिर मुझे जोश चढ़ा पढ़ाई करने का और मैं नौकरी छोड़ कर दिल्ली के राजेंद्र नगर में आ गया।

यहाँ आई ए एस की तैयारी करने वालों में चाय कि तलब मुझे पंजाब के दूकानदारों से भी ज़्यादा दिखी। मेरे जो भी दोस्त बने वो अनिल की चाय की दुकान पर ही बने और हर शाम को वहाँ ऐसी ऐसी गंभीर चर्चा होती कि लगता देश अब सुधरा कि तब सुधरा। मुझे यहाँ भी चाय से ज़्यादा अनिल की दुकान पर मिलने वाली वो ब्रैड कि रस्क ज़्यादा पसंद आती। रस्क को गरम चाय में डुबोकर नर्म मीठी रस्क खाने में बड़ा मज़ा आता। और ऐसे ही चाय का दौर चलता रहा। और अब जबकि मैं सरकारी नौकरी में अपने पैर जमा रहा हूँ तो चाय से पीछा छुड़ाना मुश्किल हो गया है। इतने सालों तक चाय पीने के बावजूद मैं अब तक चाय का अमली नहीं हुआ हूँ और ये मेरे चाय के शौकीन दोस्तों को अभी भी चकित कर देता है।

सरकार में रहकर आपको ऐसा लगेगा कि ये देश अब भी वैसे चल रहा है जैसे अंग्रेज़ इसे चलाते थे। ब्यूरोक्रेसी और आर्मी दो ऐसी संस्थाएं हैं जो आज भी लगभग वैसी ही हैं जैसा अंग्रेजों ने जाते जाते इन्हे छोड़ा था। और आइस वाली व्हिस्की के अलावा एक चीज़ जो अंग्रेजों ने इन दो संस्थाओं में अपनी छाप कि तरह छोड़ी है तो वो है चाय। सरकार में चाय सिर्फ एक पेय नहीं है। ये एक सरकारी बाबू कि दिनचर्या का एक अभिन्न अंग है।

सुबह जब काफी देर से ऑफिस की शुरुआत होती है तो एक ही घंटे में चाय के ब्रेक का वक़्त हो जाता है। यहाँ भी कर्मचारी की चाय और अफसर की चाय में फर्क होता है। ऑफिस का चपरासी एक शीशे के गिलास में चाय पीता है लेकिन जब साहब की चाय लेकर आता है तो चाय का कप एक छोटी सी प्लेट में रखा होता है। और चाय के साथ कम से कम दो तीन तरह के बिसकुट ज़रूर होते हैं। सो मुझे इन्हीं बिस्किट्स का इंतज़ार रहता है। पर उससे भी शानदार चाय होती है शाम की चाय और वो भी तब जब कोई बहुत ही सीनियर अफसर या मंत्री आपको शाम की चाय पर बुलाये।

क्योंकि हम अभी ट्रेनिंग पर हैं तो हमें रोज़ ही किसी न किसी बड़े अफसर या मंत्री से मिलने जाना होता है कर्ट्सी विसिट के नाम पर। और जब ऐसी जगहों पर चाय मिलती है तो उसे सिर्फ 'टी' नहीं कहते, उसे कहते हैं 'हाई-टी'। अब उसे 'हाई' क्यूँ कहते हैं ये तो मैं नहीं जानता लेकिन ये ज़रूर समझ गया हूँ कि हाई टी में चाय सिर्फ एक साइड एक्टर बनकर रह जाती है। चाय के साथ कम से तीन चार तरह के पकोड़े, समोसे, ढोकला, चिप्स, पेस्ट्री, मिठाई, और न जाने क्या क्या ऑफर किया जाता है। और इसलिए हाई टी मेरी फेवेरेट चाय बन गयी है। आज कल जब भी ऐसी किसी उच्च स्तरीय बैठक में हमें बुलाया जाता है तो मैं यही देख कर अपने मेजबान की सीनियरीटी का अंदाज़ा लगाता हूँ कि आखिर हाई टी कितनी हाई थी। एक मंत्री जी के यहाँ चाय के साथ इतने पकवान थे कि मैं चाय तक पहुँच ही नहीं पाया और मेरे मन में उनके प्रति काफी सम्मान उमड़ पड़ा। एक सीनियर अफसर ने चाय के साथ सिर्फ बिसकुट दी वो भी केवल नमकीन वाली तो मैं समझ गया कि ये या तो बेहद ईमानदार हैं या बेहद कंजूस। जब एक हाई टी में पास्ता और छोटे छोटे पिज्जा भी दिखे तो मेरे मन से भूरि भूरि प्रशंसा निकली उन साहब के लिए।

हाल ही में ससुराल के एक रिश्तेदार ने चाय पर सपत्नी बुलाया और मैं स-ससुराल ही पहुँच गया। ससुराल वाली चाय की अलग ही बात होती है। दामाद की इज्ज़त भी किसी सरकारी अफसर से कम नहीं होती। कभी कचौरी, कभी पोहे तो कभी टिक्की, चाय अकेले कभी नहीं आती। और जब चाय का न्योता ससुराल के किसी रिश्तेदार से आया हो तो पता होता है कि यहाँ न सिर्फ चाय के साथ दमदार नाश्ता मिलेगा बल्कि पैर छूते छूते दो तीन कडक नोट वाले लिफाफे भी आ जाएंगे जेब में। बाद में ये लिफ़ाफ पिज्जा खरीदने के काम आते हैं। इस बार वाले नाश्ते में भी जम कर टिक्की, पनीर पकोड़ा, ढोकला और चाट का लुत्फ लिया गया। आखिर पंजाबी ससुराल होने का असली फायदा तो खाने पीने वाला बिहारी पंडित ही उठा सकता है।

लेकिन आज तब हद हो गयी जब चाय की ब्रेक में सरकारी चाय के साथ न कोई समोसे मिले और न ही कोई बिस्कुट। पिछले कुछ दिनों से मिल रहे नयी तरह के कूकीस पर दिल आ गया था मेरा तो। लेकिन आज बस फक्त चाय!! आज मुझे चाय इतनी गरम लगी कि मुझे एहसास हुआ कि मौसम कितना गरम हो गया है। ऐसे मौसम में भी कोई चाय पी सकता है भला? एक बार फिर मेरा पलड़ा 'चाय के शौकीन' से 'चाय के दुश्मन' की तरफ बदल गया है। कल एक मंत्री जी के घर फिर से चाय का न्योता आया है। देखते हैं कल टी कितनी हाई होती है। तभी पता चलेगा कि मैं चाय का फिर से शौकीन बन पाता हूँ या नहीं। 

NADT - 'N'ot only 'A'bout 'D'irect 'T'axes

December 2011. I landed at Nagpur to a very royal welcome at the National Academy of Direct Taxes. Contrary to my welcome at college way back in 2002 when it was all about 'kholo', 'ragging' and 'bakaiti', here it was with a rose bud, a gift hamper and smiles from the senior batch. We, the 65th Batch of the Indian Revenue Services (Income Tax) seemed to have arrived.

Soon, we were to get into a frenzy of wardrobe management. First of all there was that black Bandgala and as the name suggests, it chokes your throat badly, more so if you are endowed with a double chin like mine. Then there was the formal/lounge suit which by the way could not be called so, as there was no lounge in the academy. So to make sure that lounge suits are not left without a use, the classrooms were the places that were to be entered in a lounge suit. Ha! This was amazing. In college, we were lamented for wearing shorts, t-shirts (with Black Sabbath or Pink Floyd on it) and bathroom chappals into classes and here I was going to class in a lounge suit. Then there was the academy track suit along with a set of white shorts and white t-shirts to be worn for Morning Activity. The name is misleading. Morning Activity sounds so benign as if we would wake up to do some saheb-type stroll in a lawn with a pet dog accompanying us. However, it should be renamed as 'extremely physical activity that is the birthplace of all Memos'. (More about what and who is that animal called Memo after a couple of paragraphs). There were also days when we were supposed to wear traditional Indian dresses like the kurta pyjama and the like.

Having stuffed our wardrobe with enough number of shirts and ties and suits, we went to our first class after the inauguration lecture. We were introduced to characters called the DG, ADG-1, ADG-2 and also the CD, ACD-1, ACD-2. We also came to know that we are called the OT. I wondered why there weren't any AOT-1 and AOT-2!!. Never Mind. The "Oh-Tea" was more than just a name. It signified two of the most used terms in our lives. At each lecture, we would exhale "Oh", either at the sheer sleepiness of them or at the immense amount of hyper-divine taxation knowledge that moved past us like dangerous missiles. And at the end of each lecture, we would crave for Tea. I was soon to learn that Tea forms the most integral and basic ingredient in a Civil Servants life.

Alas, I do not take tea. But that didn't matter. Because in government, the Tea is never about the tea. It is about what accompanies the tea. It is either a cookie, a biscuit, a pastry, a pakoda or any other innovation. In fact, when bigger officials or guests arrive, there is always a High-Tea that is organized. While the name might mislead people to expecting liquor or grass, it actually means that the tea will be accompanied by so many snacks that you can actually get high on cholesterol. For someone like me, I just waited for days when a High Tea would be organized.

By the way, what were be being trained at? Oh, we were being trained to collect income tax. Simple isn't it? Ha! Not even close. The Income Tax Act which is one of the zillion Acts that India has takes pride in boasting that it is the most complex act and looks bulkier than even the Constitution of India. The Income Tax Rules, however beats even the Act in its bulkiness. First I thought that these were given to be used during the Morning Activity where these shall be used as dumb-bells to flex some muscles. To my horror, I realized these were to be read. Reading the IT Act is not, truly speaking, reading. It is actually Textual Harassment. My feelings on the legal language of the Act has already been expressed here http://cmt-lekhnise.blogspot.in/2012/01/legal-bullshit.html

But the most MEMOrable part of the training is the MEMO. It is that small piece of paper which lands at you like a bomb, if you are found missing from the Morning PT or in any class or even in any cultural function. Then you submit a reply and then get a moral lecture from the faculty and then forget about it. That reminds me of the Cultural functions. Oh there were too many of them and the most scary part was that our CD himself was an accomplished artist. A flute player of repute. That only meant that all cultural programmes had to be of the level to match his and that left many of us trying hard to come up with a show that he would approve of. I saw many innocent OT's burning midnight oil with a dance or a song and waiting in anticipation at the auditions of cultural programmes conducted by the CD himself. Poor souls.

However, NADT remains in my memories my baptism centre in the government and a place where I spent my enjoyable time. As luck would have it, I moved out from the academy to join another service but I still am fond of my NADT day's introduction - "Hello, I am CMT, an OT in IRS(IT), who lives at NADT and loves High Tea"

sota kyun hai ?

सोता क्यों है?

घनी गोधूली की बेला में

तकिये से जब मिलता मस्तक

बिस्तर पर मैं लेटा रहता

चौदह सोलह घन्टे तक जब 

                                                          मिलता है आराम मुझे, पर

                                                          जग न जाने रोता क्यों है ?

                                                          बेमतलब सब पूछा करते 

                                                          तू भई, इतना सोता क्यों है?

क्या बतालाऊं नादानों को

पागल हैं! जो लगे हुए हैं

असली सुख तो सोने में है,

ज्ञानी हैं जो पड़े हुए हैं

                                                         जो हैं मुझसे पूछा करते 

                                                         तू भई, इतना सोता क्यों है?

                                                         मैं बस बोलूँ, ''सो जा मूरख

                                                         सुख तू ऐसे खोता क्यों है?''

खोवत है जो सोवत ना है

पागल है जो जागत है

सब दुखों की जड़ है इच्छा 

कहता यही तथागत है

                                                         पड़ा रहे जो मानव हरदम 

                                                         दुख उसको ना होता क्यों है?

                                                         मूरख जग ये क्यों ना सोता

                                                         बेमतलब जग रोता क्यों है?


जीवन का मकसद है क्या?
क्या निर्मल आनन्द नहीं?
फिर क्यों थकता मरता है तू
क्या बुद्धि तेरी मन्द कहीं?


                                                        अब न सता खुद को इतना तू 
                                                        दुख के बीज यूं बोता क्यों है?
                                                        आ जा, बिस्तर पर गिर देख 
                                                        सुख इसमें इतना होता क्यों है?

चिन्ता - चिन्तन छोड़ दे प्यारे

आ जा नींद की बाहों में

पाने दे सुकून ज़हन को

खो जा सपनीली राहों में

                                                        मत भरमा तू अपने मन को

                                                        चिन्तित इतना होता क्यों है?

                                                        लगा खराटे जम के भाई

                                                        समझ  कि ज्ञानी सोता क्यों है?

Legal Bullshit

Inspired by my initiation into the study of laws, acts, sections, subsections, clauses, sub-clauses, blah-blahs, and sub-blah-blahs, here is a legal definition of "Bullshit" in a manner that suits the various thick books of law.

Section 345UAX

       Sub Section (34BC)

               Clause (iii)

                     Sub-Clause (b)

                              Sub-Sub Clause (iv a) 

                              

                              Notwithstanding anything under the provisions of this Act, the term "Bullshit" shall include

                              

                                (i)   excreta of a male bovine, where 'male' excludes

                                           (a) females, or

                                           (b) non-males, or

                                           (c) beings of indeterminate sex, as determined under the provisions of the 

                                                subsection (iii ac) of Section 36HBBX of the Determination of Sex Act 2035,

                                      and 'bovine' means as defined in sub-clause (b) of clause (iii) of sub-rule 3A of                         

                                      rule 87GH of the Classification of Domestic Animal Rules, 2013,

                                    

                                      Provided that, 'excreta' fulfills the following conditions:

                                     

                                          (i)   it is sourced from undigested food, semi-digested food or any other form of 

                                                food that is not digested, as certified by a Central Government approved 

                                                Veterinary Medical Officer of Class 'A', and

                                          (ii)  it falls on grass, mud, road, fields, or any part of land (as defined in 

                                                Geological Survey Report 1875) or any other earthly body 

                                                appurtenant to such land, and

                                          (iii) it is, in no way, whatsoever, similar to the meaning of 'shit' as defined in the                             

                                               clause (f) of subsection 7BB of Section 763ZY of the Prohibition of Usage of 

                                               Derogatory Words, Act 2065.

                                   

                                      Provided further, that 'bull' shall be used only as an integrated prefix to the term

                                      defined in this section and shall not be used after disjointing it from the term defined 

                                      in this section, so as not to connote the meaning it ordinarily connotes under the  

                                      provisions of the Preservation of Domestic Animals Act 2037 or Maintenance of 

                                      Agricultural and Farm Assests Rules, 2015.

                                (ii)  any type of human produce in the form of lectures, class-notes, presentations, 

                                      charts, graphs, discussions, seminars, conferences, project reports or any document 

                                      as defined under the provisions of the Electronic and Mis-Information Technology 

                                      Act, 2060 or, anything deemed to be such human produce in such form as may suit 

                                      the definition of this term, which is delivered in a class room, lecture hall, conference 

                                      hall, auditorium or any other building or buildings as defined under the sub-section 

                                      34CCD of section 420 of the Classification of Immovable Property Act 2114, 

                                      subject to the conditions that such human produce would produce such effects as 

                                      provided below:

                                         

                                         (a) boredom, sleepiness, or dizziness, or any such form of ailment that may be 

                                              deemed to be in connection with boredom, sleepiness, or dizziness, or

                                         (b) an inner urge to leave the room, abort the lecture, eliminate the producer of 

                                               such produce through physical harm or any other means, or any other urge 

                                               that may lead to the dissociation of the person from the source of such human 

                                               produce,  or,

                                         (c) any other conditions that may accrue or arise a desire to dissociate from the 

                                              source of such human produce,

                                (iii)  any other thing as may be defined as 'bullshit' by any notifications, orders, or

                                       memorandums by the Ministry of Animal Excreta and Mental Garbage or by way of  

                                       amendments to this Act or by the enactment of any other act as the Far(t)li(g)ament 

                                       may deem fit, from time to time, or any such occasion as it may deem necessary.

Mama's boy and insensitive husband?

More often than not, I have seen many women frown upon their husbands/boyfriends being very insensitive, in terms of remembering birthdays, getting cues, pampering their wives or non-cooperation in shopping etc. Also, I have heard many women complain of how their male partners are obsessed with listening to their moms and it terribly interferes in their love life.

I have, thus, been compelled to probe deeper into such complaints from women and find out why there is a common discomfort among women about their spouses being insensitive as husbands and also being mama's boys. Many women think that it is the mom who 'pollutes' the son's mind and instigates him to listen less to the wife and more to the mom. This assumption needs deeper analysis. 

I haven't conducted and in-depth field study to come at any conclusions and hence the explanations I am putting forth may appear conjectural and prone to disapproval. Nonetheless, I can boast of having a sizeable and equally distributed sample set of male and female friends who willingly share their "such" experiences with me. Also, I share a substantial amount of comfort with mothers (most of my close friends would agree !!) and so have also been exposed to how mothers feel about their sons and and their daughter-in-laws. Thus, based on my limited yet qualitatively deep understanding, I present here my take on the problem of mama's boys and insensitive husbands.

First of all, I must refute the assumption held by many women that men, in general, are not very sensitive to emotions. On my interactions with various men (many of whom would qualify for being tough and macho) and my own experiences, I can say that men are as sensitive or insensitive as women. Just like all women are not equally beautiful, not all men are equally rough (read 'tough'). 

Most men do cry and most men cry only for women or because of women. In almost 7 out of 10 incidents when men have cried, the reason has been some or the other woman. In cases where a man hurts another man, the response is more violent and does not culminate into crying. Although the frequency of crying is definitely far lesser in men than women, but the intensity of pain felt by men, when they cry, is far deeper. The average time to get back to normalcy after a crying 'session' is far too longer for men than women. While women can console themselves quickly and within hours of crying may resort back to normal activities, men find it very difficult to get over a crying issue and it takes them too long to come out of the depressing feeling. If we consider 'crying' as being an indicator of being sensitive, men are as sensitive as women. (QED !!!)

Coming to the particular cases of sensitive sons and sensitive husbands/lovers. Men can be mapped on a scale of sensitivity (say from 0 to 10), from being totally insensitive (Level 0 - like the villainous rapists of Hindi movies) to being overly sensitive ( Level 10 - like the heroes of Karan Johar movies). Most men would fall in between, more in the manner of a Gaussian distribution. Men also have a uniform level of sensitivity towards all women. This is a trait very different from women. Let me explain how. 

A woman who is highly sensitive to say, flowers and gets 'touched' by the gesture of a man gifting him flowers, would react differently to different men giving her flowers. She would judge the gesture of a man by a myriad other factors rather than just one 'sensitive' gesture. While a wife may like his husband whistling to her from the other room, she would get fiercely angry if some passerby whistles at her.

Men are far more uni-dimensional.  If a man does not like flowers or cards (most men don't), it wouldn't matter which woman sends him flowers. Similarly, if a man is a voracious eater (most men are), he would fall for any woman who feeds him well. (So sons of great cook mom expect a great cook wife and discriminate wife from mom based on cooking skills!!) Thus, though men can be placed on different levels of sensitivity towards women, such sensitivity would be similar for all women on that criteria.

Having established the uni-dimensional approach of men in being sensitive to different aspects (including emotional aspects), I come down to explaining the problem of mama's boys. Most men who are ridiculed (or even mentioned) as mama's boys are the ones who are placed high on the scale of sensitivity. Such men appreciate good food, love, care, look for comfort when in pain and reciprocate love shown to them. As children, these men, thus, become very close to their mothers. Following their uni-dimensional instinct, they show the same behavior towards their spouses and expect the same warmth from their wives. By the very nature of the relationships, wives cannot afford to be so unconditional and forgiving as mothers are and expect  a lot from their husbands. The sensitive men thus find it easier with their moms and wife may feel that the man is being insensitive to her because of being a mama's boy.

The other set of men who are placed low on sensitivity scale, are neither very close to their mothers nor close to their spouses. In fact, they would also be probably not very close with their sisters. This set of men are highly chauvinist, enforce a lot of rules of behavior on the women of their families. They are thus, in design, insensitive to their wives. But then, they are not mama's boy either.

Thus, mama's boys are the ones who are more passionate lovers, who care a lot for their wives and also expect a lot of emotional comfort from them. It is the manly and 'not-a-mama's boy' who is to be more insensitive and cold to the wives emotional needs. Thus, women who think their husbands are mama's boys should feel blessed. They have the material available for passionate lovers and sensitive husbands. All they need to do is shower more love on their men than the mothers do. You can win such men only by giving more love and not for asking more. 

Therefore, do not blame the mother-in-laws for being snatching your husband away, and mom-in-laws should  also not accuse their daughter-in-laws for stealing away their sons. It is only that the men in such cases are the sensitive ones and hence they would attempt to be loving to both the mom and the wife. So live with it ladies, that's how it is.

you are so CUTE....

How much some boys would love to be called CUTE by girls and how readily will they pour out their wallets on buying chocolate cakes and teddy bears in a failed attempt to hear this little word....

Boys are simple... you show them a girl, the Leydig Cells of the testes release the Testosterone and they are ready... if the girl smiles, they are "high", and if the girl says, "you are so cute", the heart rate of the guy has already crossed permissible limits. With girls it is more complicated. You show them a guy, they do not notice. The guy dresses up well, talks nicely, has a heavy wallet, a car to drive, he is OK; could be friends. If the guy is 'dependable' (defined as per the girl concerned), macho, heroic, out of the world, well... she might consider dating. If he is the Cupid's own incarnation, she would marry him provided he bends on his knees with a ROCK Solitaire diamond ring and says "will you marry me?" That is why you hear boys 'hunting' for girls (and not 'vice-versa') because hunting, by its very definition, means a tedious job that requires a focused approach, a meticulous plan and a flawless execution. Ask any man who has had a 'yes' after the knee-agonizing-wallet-fuming-solitaire-gifting scene and he will proudly (and sigh fully) tell you how he 'accomplished' this. Girls know that they are privileged and they do not need to run after boys. Boys are anyways running after them. In all this chase game, there are but a few respites. The adjectives like 'my baby', 'cutie pie', 'sweetoo','jaanu' are like the small Vishisht Seva Medals which are awarded to control attrition of low paid army men.

I, today, want to discuss the most frequently used adjectives nowadays - cute. One doesn't need to look in a dictionary to understand the meaning; it is the connotation which is more important. Earlier the adjective was mostly used for babies. Men would generally be honoured with "handsome", "smart" or the like. But recent trends in colleges say that "CUTE" has far outweighed any adjective hitherto used by ladies. The word carries such wide scope and universal appeal that it applies to Brad Pitt as easily as it does to Dhoni. Abhishek Bachchan is also cute to some and so is Salman Khan (they are 'cute' and 'ex-cute' to Ash). Such wide usages makes it confusing to understand the real connotation of the term. Well, one should look at real life examples. In most cases, a guy having looks and physique of Salman Khan shall not be called cute. Handsome might be a rather appropriate word. Cute, at times, is more suitably applied to sissy guys, (you know, who shake their hands more than they shake their heads while talking and their bums more than their legs while walking), but most girls today are giving up this usage. New terms are being coined for the purpose. In that case, cute is most aptly applied to a chubby, rounded, plump and clown like figure. He is vitually the humanized version of the Panda. Cute is, today, directly proportional to the visible proportion of adipose tissue (fat storing tissues) in your body and is fast replacing the adjective fat (or obese) as its politically correct synonym.

It is no wonder that when I was first called cute, I thought of myself as Salman Khan, but when I was called cute by plenty and they accompanied this with a smile or a laugh, I was compelled to believe that the latter meaning (the politically correct version of fat is intended. I have met girls rarely during my college days (thanks to the amazing sex ratio at IITs) and hence never bothered about how I looked. The four years had left me half-haired and twice-bellied. I was first called cute by my girlfriend and I was justified in thinking myself as Salman Khan. Why else would a girl who called me cute, become my girlfriend, right? Well, I was called cute again by my female friends of office. I was a bit impressed initially but worried later. I could see that their then boyfriends (now their husbands) are far more better looking than I am and hence cute, by no means, would have meant "macho" or "handsome" when it was used for me. I asked my girlfriend why she called me cute and with a giggling smile she explained me the 'real' connotation. I was broke. I looked in the mirror. My waistline was thinner than my tummy line. In vital stats, I would be something like 36-46-36 (chest-tummy-waist...perverts!!!). When I looked at my face, it felt like a miniature version of my tummy was transplanted as my cheeks with the nose and ears clumsily fit on the lump. I could be easily termed "du tho gola" (bihari - दू ठो गोला meaning 'two circles'). Having realized the real intended meaning of the word, I had no choice but to accept the honour (with regret)

It has been few months that I took a break from my job and started studying once again. After about a few weeks of classes, got acquainted with a couple of girls. They were nice, friendly, intellingent and talkative. And when one evening, while sipping tea at a roadside stall, they almost unanimously said, "CMT, you are so cute...." I was broke, once again.

Mission SEVENTY - Day 40 updates

40 days ago I had made a plan to reduce weight to 70 kgs from present weight fo 88 kgs. It is time for some review in progress. First the outputs. As measured on 30th July 2009, weight has not reduced at all and it is still 88 kgs. No applauds please !!! The only halo of hope is that wieght has stopped increasing. I am being too optimistic now.

Well, when outputs do not come as expected and there's not much to talk about, you start talking about inputs. As decided in the plan, there were 5 major things to do for this weight reduction
(1) avoid direct fats
(2) avoid fatty dishes
(3) start yoga
(4) run
(5) measure progress

Progress has been measured and hence point 5 is ticked. Though the plan of buying a weighing machine is postponed till the day i start losing. Point 1 has been religiously followed and usage of butter on bread or ghee on rotis has been completely stopped. Determination is strong and hopefully should be able to continue with it. Point no 1 ticked.

Point 2 about fatty foods has seen a considerable progress. Sweet dishes have been completely avoided even during parties. Desserts are no longer part of meals. Three exceptions were taken one on bhaiya's b'day (one piece of rasgulla), on on bhabhi's b'day (one piece of rasgulla) and one on rakshabandhan (one piece of rasgulla). Also it was ensured that the least fatty sweet is taken though sugar content was high. Going forward, sweets even on festivals are to be avoided. Usage of sugar in dahi and home made dishes like sewai and kheer have been consumed (cooked in saffola). Pooris and parathas have been avoided completely barring one day of rakhi. To summaries , mithai is ticked, fried stuff is ticked. Thogh I can't call this as "green" , i can call it an "amber" on point 2.

Point 3 of yoga had a decent start, but the moemntum died down in a week. They key challenge was that in the days of travel, ic ould not find time for youga and the chain broke. Need to make it a part of the time table in the evening as morning seems quite unfeasible to practise. Present a Red on Yoga.

Point 4 of running is the biggest blot on the plan. No running has been done and I have also missed on the nomination in the Marathon. I am unable to get a clarity on how to get this built into a hbit daily. Will attempt to do running at least on the weekends to break ice and would then target to strat daily running. Important to register progress in the next fifteen days. A big Red on scorecard presently.

So overall the performance on the inputs is

1) avoid direct fats - Green
(2) avoid fatty dishes - Amber
(3) start yoga - Red
(4) run - Red
(5) measure progress - Green (because progress was measured and not because of what the measurement showed.)

Though I had decided that nothing except the weighing machine shall be seen as measurement of progress, still it is difficult to ignore the comments which come. A couple of people have remarked that they are noticing a visible change in my size and feel that at least the tummy has come down a bit. Though subjective and not to be recorded officially, there is no harm in using this as a motivation for further plans.

Key challenges -

1. Do not lose the motivation as it is a long term plan and progress will take time to show up.
2. Keep posting update on blog as making things public increases self-accountability.
3. Keep up the good work on dietary control.

All the best fatso :)

Mission SEVENTY - day ONE

Once again, like several other times, I have decided to lose weight. I don't exactly remember how many times have I taken this vow, but I do remember that I have broken it every time. I am 5 feet 7 inches tall. Actually it is between the sixth and seventh inch, but i prefer the rounding off to my advantage. According to diet calculators, I should be in the range of 68 kgs to 72 kgs to be termed FIT. Well, I was once 68 kgs in weight, but then I wans't 5'7" tall by then. Since the time my height has stopped increasing, my weight has started growing faster than it did. No there is no thyroid problem, no hormonal imbalances, no stress-eating or any other eating disorder. There is a plain simple reason - I eat a lot and I do nothing that can be termed as physical activity.

When I was in class 12th, I was 68, and thought that it's all right. In a year I was 74. In another 3 years, I was 78. When I joined the job, I caught jaundice for two months, but contrary to tradition, I did not lose a single gram. Instead, I came out of the hospital as heavy as I had gone in, 82. One more year and I was 84. Did some gymming for a couple of months, came down to 83.5, but soon the lost weight came back and June last year I was 85. Last month, I got my self weighed and it was 88. The digits looked nothing but 4 huge CIRCLES two at the bottom and two sitting on the top, I almost felt I saw two fat men in the weighing machine grinning at me. Now it is getting scary. I am f***ing 20 kgs overweight, that is THIRTY percent extra weight. The more scary thing is that the rate of weight gain has swiftly moved up.

After getting a lipid profiling done and finding out that the sugar levels are okay and the cholesterol has crossed the boundary, I have finally decided to take this seriously. But what is different in the slimming vow now? What is the guarantee that I will not betray myself one more time. Probably the fact that the previous attempts were a desire to make myself look good and the later ones had the aim of becoming a body-builder. But this one is instigated by a more vital and critical desire - to live.... and to live long enough to do what i wish to do. Hence, in this desire for a life worth living, I, hereby, pledge, on this twenty fifth day of june, 2009 to put in all efforts necessary to get myself to a weight of 70 kgs.

The pledge is safely worded. One, it only pledges to make efforts and not necessarily get results and secondly, no time frame is decided in the pledge. That might make it sound a little vague and something that shall soon be broken. But actually, these loopholes make sure that I shall not break the pledge as it is not unnecessarily binding on my freedom. And there are a few firm clauses too. The most important being the mention of a tangible and measurable target - 70 kgs. This will not only ensure that I keep the pledge on till the goal is achieved, but also that the goal shall not be deemed achieved by other facts like getting the waist-size down or looking slimmer. The strictness of the measure shall ensure that I stay committed until mission accomplished.

Well, as today was the first day of the pledge, most of it was spent thinking and chalking out the details of the mission. A few directives have been agreed at, namely

1. Zero direct fat - Direct refers to food which has only fat and nothing else like ghee, butter etc. It does not include food that contains them. Today's update - No direct fat taken today.
   
2. Reduce intake of fat containing food to zero in gradual manner. For example, stop eating fried stuff initially, then gradually start avoiding normal food like curries, sweet dishes or special preparations that use ghee or additional oil for preparation. Today's update - Parathas in meal were replaced with plain rotis. Dal makhani was still eaten.
3. Start yoga. Yoga is first before any other exercise because it is easier. Do Kapal-Bhati (Dad's recommendation courtesy Ramdev Baba) daily. Increase the number from 50 per day to 200 per day. Today's update- 50 done.
4. Start running. I need to run at least three days a week for faster burning of calories. Today's update - enrolled for the Delhi Half marathon. Shall start practising from next weekend. DON'T get surprised people. I have run two half marathons earlier too but didn't lose any weight. Am hoping some results this time.
5. Measure progress at least every month. Progress shall be solely measured on weighing scale and no other measures shall be acceptable. Today's update - Am thinking of buying a weighing scale. Will finalize the decision by end of July - only if i stick to the above guidelines.
   

That is the plan for now. Like all other plans, this one too shall be reviewed and revised, if required, but the goal is clear. The journey doesn't stop until the machine clocks 70. It is still 18 kgs and several days to go. All the best fatso. :)

Yes... I am a Male Chauvinist Pig

MCP is a term oft used by the feminist to ridicule men who think that men are superior to women and feminist is a term by MCP's to ridicule back. Nevertheless, the point is not to explain what an MCP and neither to make a confession that I am one, but just an attempt to mention the reasons why an MCP is the way he is.

As a child, I used to play a lot with girls in my community and was quite good at playing the games of skipping, kit-kit (a game like ludo, played on the roads by moving a piece of stone from one box to another walking on one foot) and other such feminine games. As my sister is the only daughter of our parents I also acted as a pseudo sister for her and listen to her stories of dolls and fairies. As I grew up, my interaction with girls diversified. I must have been in class 6 when I first fell in love with a christian girl who is presently married. Then those obvious crushes on young school teachers and on and off crushes on some or the other girl of school. These times lasted till I was in school. IIT, though showed a very different picture. In a batch of 440 students, there were about 40 girls. with an average of 10 boys hitting on a girl, the probability of me getting a girl was very poor and so was it. The four years of my life were spent in intimate companionship of boys and more boys, so much so that girls became a fantasy for us. Even Sex ratios of 963/1000 for the country seemed quite optimistic to us as were living in a 100/1000 kind of scenario.

Post IIT, I have been having a lot of interactions with girls, primarily because I deal in the sales of premium cosmetics and observe consumers making purchases daily and secondly that I have been into a relationship for about three years now. The interaction with the female community after such a long time was nothing less than fantabuolous. It was colourful, lively and altogether beautiful. The fantasies that we had about girls in our IIT days were coming true. We thought girls are those beautiful creatures god has made with whom if you go for a coffee, you feel proud. Who, if sits at the pillion seat of your bike, the entire men community shall look at you with awe and admiration, someone who must be sending sweet sms's of miss you and love you types and who would be a great company to be with. Most of it was true in the beginning and I was so delighted I was now exposed to the part of the society which is almost half of the society I belong to.

But rosy beds were soon to become thorny. While fantasising about girls at college, all we would think about was their beautiful voice, their smiles, their sweet voice etc etc... but one basic fact never occurred to us. Girls also have a brain or so to say a mind. Mind is a vague term and I still feel it lies somewhere between mind and heart. We fantasized the smiles of the girls but could never imagine what would it take to bring that smile on the face. We thought about the beautiful faces but never knew that when they wake up early in the morning, they look as horrific as us and it takes them hours of denting-painting to present themselves to the outside world. While we wanted to hear their sweet voices, we never tried to think what those voices would say. Recently many of my IITian friends or to generalize my engineering friends (from other engg colleges also who enjoy the same sex ratio as IIT's) have started falling in love. While initially they felt that falling was much like a bungee jumping, only later did they realize that there was no rope tied to their legs that would bring them back. It was a free fall at an accelerating 9.8 m/sec sq.

First their girlfriends (including mine) loved everything in their boyfriends, their bikes, their untidy t-shirts, their unshaven looks and their geeky minds. The boys however made their fullest efforts to behave gentlemen and would take shower daily, use a deodorant, wear clothes suggested by their girlfriends in order to look suitable to be dating her. The efforts were intially appreciated and gradually became norms and a little later laws. Going out without a shower was prohibited, and eating onions in lunch was barred if you wished to kiss later.

To bring a smile to the lady's face, the boys would spend half their salary on teddy bears, chocolates, flowers, cards and at times diamonds and gold. They would remember the brithday, the valentine day and all the other 363 days of the year. Only in the next year did they realize that birthdays come every year and must be made more special (read "expensive") than the previous one. The girls would gradually share their wishlist of a big house, or a dream car, a or an expensive jewelry and the boy showing his full chivalry would commit to get anything she ever wished. At times, he would not refrain from saying , " I can get the moon for you". But the girls are smart, they know that moon is impossible so they never ask for the moon, but they ask for everything else available under the moon. Soon, the girl's wish list becomes the boys' To-do list.

The boy initially pays a lot of attention to his girl's career as being the modern man, he is not supposed to demand a housewife but help his spouse in her career. So he does. Later, he quits his own job to suit a transfer of his wife and within years, realizes that in an attempt to be with her wife his career hasn't moved an inch while his wife's has moved yards. If he complains, he is chauvinist, if he doesn't, he is a loser. If the man wishes that his wife should not drink or smoke, the only way he can demand that is by giving up himself. As many men find it difficult to give up, they succumb to the fact that their wifes can drink and the only request is to avoid whiskeys and restrict to vodka.

I know I am sounding chauvinist, but then, I can't help. I am still in favour for Women's education and against domestic violence. But then, I am not in favour of the already educated and fully affluent women blaming their submitting spouses of being chauvinist if he asks her to toouch his feet, but find it sweet when he gives her a head- massage.

My message to all the single out there is "Dude !!! the thing that you are looking for is available only for ten minutes a day, but the price that you pa for it, takes away all the pleasures from it. Keep fantasising, it is more fun than reality"

main gaddi utte chaddh gaya...

Today was my first day on the Hercules Ryders newly bought. It has cost me 6500 rupees and a serious fight with my girlfriend (almost to the verge of breakup) to finally own this cycle. Made of alloy steel and blue- black in color, this 18-gear cycle from TI Cycles is one of the best buys i could get. There were other bikes of atlas and hero but as my bulletier friend manyu says, "Be a purist", i decided to stick to Hercules, a brand of cycle I always aspired to ride since my school days. Well, school days were fun with the Hero Jet as well.


So I woke up late, as usual, and dressed up fast for the office. Took my cycle out of my flat (yes, it is proudly parked in the dining hall of our 3 -bedroom flat) and took the service lift to get down from fifth floor to the ground. With a lot of anxiety and excitement I headed for my first trip on Ryders. I was ready for the traffic, the dust and the weather, but had not prepared myself for the headturns and comments. The first comment came from the guard of our colony, "Waah Sir !! kya mast cycle hai". I didn't react and kept moving on. Just outside the building was the old rickshaw-wala who takes me to office daily (not anymore, as i have a cycle of my own now) who looked at me as customer who was lost to another product. He sighed and I avoided looking into his eyes. In about five minutes, I hit the main road, and damn scared I was. After a gap of at least three years, I was riding and that too in the heavily busy Gurgaon roads. It took me more than five minutes to cross the highway to get to the correct side of the road. I could feel my heartbeat as cars passed by my front and by my back. Nevertheless, I had crossed the road and now it was a straight journey.

After about one and a half km, a right turn comes and am on the long stretch of road that connects to the NH 8, but before that stops at our office. I tried my hands at the gears too, doing it by complete hit and trial and in my mind revising all the mechanical engg fundas of gear ratios that IIT had tried to teach me. Only if I had paid attention. Anyhow, I was able to find a combination out of the 18 available, which made me comfortable. I was feeling hot by now and was sweating too. I took off the scarf first, and in next five minutes, my jacket was also unzipped. I reached the office in about 20-25 minutes and got a stare from the guard here too. It was really less embarassing for a manager to come in cycle rickshaw than a cycle. He grinned when I asked where should I park it? He guided me to the basement parking.

I was amused to see that I wasn't the only one who parked a cycle in the office. There were at least 20 others cycles, and most of them were the age-old Hero Jet and Atlas goldline super types. I locked my cycle and moved up the lift to my floor. I felt tired, sweating, a liitle scared but highly jubilant. The excitement today could easily match the excitement I had when I first rode the cycle way back in 1996, some twleve years ago. I had finally done what I felt like.

In the office, I kept telling everyone that I had come by a cycle, and there was a curious excitement. While most thought that it was a fitness move to decrease the girth of my tummy, some knew that i am just being miser enough to buy a car or a motorbike. Well, office was usual and I was more excited about coming back.

As I came out of the basement parking, I tried riding up the incline but failed. I walked. I will definitely figure out some gear combination to ride up this incline without effort, after all that is what an MTB is suppsoed to do. As I came out of the office gate, the guard grinned again and the rickshaw-walas, for whom I was a regular source of income sighed in both surprise and amusement. Someone even shouted "Sahi hai Sir." Well, I was embarassed and I kept moving on. This time I didn't have the courage to take the main road. I started taking the service lane and kept taking left turns to get to my flat. After a twenty minute ride full of both excitement and fear, I was home. My heartbeat is still above normal and I am sweating, in what is still a cold evening. I feel stupid to be doing it, but I feel great to be stupid after so long.

Welcome aboard Hercules Ryders. We have a long saga to live together.

The Potato and me

Well... one look at my photo speaks of the intimate relationship that I share with the round, attractive, omnipotent, fattening, tasty, enemy of dietitian and friend of all erstwhile Adnan Sami's , the grand POTATO. Before I move on to the epilogue of praise for my dear friend, let me try to elucidate a little on the etymology of our story's protagonist ( i m in the second lead role :)).

Potato, or AALOO as it is called in hindi... ALLOO in maithili.... BATATA in marathi... is a name whose genesis is not known but the fact that it's an integral part of one or the other dish of all major countries speaks of the 'epic'ness of the name. It's used in various forms, but is preferred boiled, meshed and fried... mostly referred to as BHARTA or CHOKHA....

now this animal called chokha is the one that has given potato a world-class fame... used in making a range of food items... from aaloo tikki (used even by McD) to samosa...and from aaloo paratha to masala dosa.... it has been used across territories and across the barriers of human boundaries...

My acquaintance with this friend is as old as my first attempt to eat anything solid... there are several family tales (often embarrassingly narrated by my mom) talk about my early fascination with this thing.... when i was a kid... i used to keep crying for potatoes in my veg curry... and would keep fishing for all the potatoes in the bowl to consume them with utmost pleasure... when i started munching living beings like chicken and mutton, the potato never got neglected... my dad (he is the cook when it comes to non-veg food in house) made it a point to put in enough potatoes to keep me satiated with the meal... he would have hardly realized it then that this little infant infatuation of mine would turn out into a militant romance by adolescence...

Time went by and my love and admiration for the round thing increased by leaps and bounds... i did not realize that gradually i had also started acquiring the shape of my romantic hero....round and attractive.... my passion grew with aaloo parathas cooked by mom ...so much so ...that if i would have 3-4 normal chappatis... i could effortlessly have 6-8 parathas in a single meal... the effect was more than just visible... i witnessed a gradual bulge beneath my chest...and few months later my sister enlightened me to the fact that i own a tummy now....

"I own a tummy!!!" .... i was thrilled... i was getting completely in the shape of my hero...my friend..my love.... i went to college where i got introduced to French Fries served in the mess... the love got a new angle... and the bulge a new circumference... job took me to punjab...and then the aaloo kulchas... job transferred me to mumbai ...and then Vada Pav....

Oh god!!! with every passing day...my love and passion for my darling potato is increasing.... it's so heartening to see it present in some or the other form all over the country... i hope it enjoys an equally respectable status abroad also....

O dear Potato...
Come what may..i'll never leave you...
Curse on all the Gyms and VLCC's
Damn all the Sauna belts and slimming machines...

Potato..thou rule... and shall ever do...
Amen Amen....

चंदू लाल के हसीन सपने

चंदू, यानी कि मैं जब छोटा था तो अपने घर के सामने बने उन बडे बडे मकानों को देखकर यही सोचा करता था कि कब हम भी इस छोटे से घर से निकल कर उस बडे से घर में जायेंगे। बडे घर में तो नहीं जा सका पर बडे शहर में ज़रूर ला पटका जिन्दगी ने।
बिहार के एक छोटे से शहर में जब मैंने अपने बचपन कि शुरुवात की तो ये देख कर अक्सर दंग रह जाता कि कैसे लोग इतनी बड़ी जगह में खोते नहीं। कैसे लोग मकानों के बीच से रास्ते ढूँढ लेते हैं यारों से मिलने के लिए। पर मुझे नहीं मालूम था कि जो शहर मुझे बचपन में इतना विशाल लगता था वोह दरअसल बहुत छोटा था। १८ साल की उम्र में मैंने वो शहर छोड़ दिया, आगे पढ़ाई करने के लिए। कानपुर नाम के एक बडे शहर में मेरे चरण पडे और जीवन के चार महत्वपूर्ण वर्ष मैंने उस शहर में बिताए जिसे हम चाहें तो देश का सबसे बड़ा गाँव भी कह सकते हैं। उन चार सालों तक मैं इसी भ्रम में रहा कि मैं अब एक बडे शहर में रहना सीख गया हूँ।

लेकिन फिर मुझे एहसास कराया गया कि मैं तो बेहद सीधा सादा और छोटे शहर कि मानसिकता वाला आदमी हूँ। मैंने अभी तक जिन्दगी के वो चकाचौंध कर देने वाले नज़ारे देखे ही नहीं हैं। ऐसे नज़ारे तो केवल दिल्ली और मुम्बई जैसी जगह पर ही दिखेंगे। किस्मत से मेरी नौकरी ने जल्दी ही मुझे ऐसे शहरों के दर्शन भी करा दिए। दिल्ली में पूरे दो महीने बिताने के बाद अब मैं पिछले एक महीने से मुम्बई में रह रहा हूँ। धीरे धीरे यहाँ के तौर तरीके सीख गया हूँ। अब मैं भी ऐसी पतलून पहनने लगा हूँ जिसमें घुटने पर भी जेब होती है। मैं भी अब चार-पांच सौ रुपये के पकवान खा लेता हूँ। दो सौ रुपये का सिनेमा देख लेता हूँ। पाव रोटी को जब बर्गर और पिज्ज़ा को नाम पर बेचा जाता है तो मैं अब घबराता नही। दौड़ती भागती सडकों को पार करने में मैं अब डरता नहीं। एक रुमाल खरीदने के लिए एक घंटा सड़क पर चलना अब मुझे बुरा नहीं लगता।

पर कहीँ ना कहीँ वो छोटे शहर का 'बिहारी' चंदू डरता है। वो वापस जाना चाहता है उस शहर में जहाँ पन्द्रह मिनट कि दूरी पर सब कुछ मिल जाया करता था। जहाँ अगर एक शाम में एक सौ रुपये सिर्फ खाने पर खर्च हो जाते थे तो इसका मतलब होता था कि कम से कम पांच लोग तो खाने ज़रूर गए होंगे। वो शहर जहाँ लडकियां तो लड़के भी बिना बांह के कपडे पहनने में शर्माते थे। वो शहर जहाँ अभी भी हर छोटी चीज़ के लिए बेटा बाप से इजाज़त लेता है। जहाँ अगर किसी के बगीचे में पांच पपीते उगे होँ तो उसमें से तीन पडोसियों को बाँट दिए जाते हैं। जहाँ गरमी में पंखा चलता है, ए सी नहीं। जहाँ पिता क पास दिन भर के थकान के बाद भी बच्चों के साथ सब्जी कि दुकान जाने कि फुर्सत होती है। जहाँ लोग रात के दस बजे खाना खा कर सोने चले जाते हैं। जहाँ जिन्दगी आज भी इतने धीमे चलती है कि सबके पास सबके लिए वक़्त होता है। काश कि कुछ ऐसा हो जाये कि हसीन सपने देखने वाले इस चंदू लाल को वापस कोई उस असलियत कि नगरी में पहुँचा दे। काश....काश.....काश.....

The BALD and the beautiful

people say that a woman's beauty lies in her beautiful hair... in the same manner, i feel the 'beauty' (or the 'handsomeness', if you want to call it that way :)) of a man lies in a bald head...

well ...well... i can see all those shaggy John Abrahams giving me that look..but dude...you got to get bald to realize the charm of it... i was also apprehensive of my baldness initially but now i know that it's the IN thing today....Needless to mention the immediate benefits of baldness, regarding the time and money saved in hair care.... It also gives you a fresher look when you get up in the morning... you do not feel dull in the morning coz of crumbled hair... but instead always feel 'light-headed'

In addition to the physiological benefits that it has..there are several styling possibilities that baldness offers you...you become more comfortable using various kinds of caps and hats...coz you aren't worried of them crumbling your hair style.... a bald head also gives a very modern and fashionable look with all the contemporary beard styles, like french, italian, goatey etc... (remember that Dil Chahta Hai looks.....!!!!) ...the traditional indian beard also looks great on bald faces though....

how can i miss stating the charm that it creates among women... in the 40's and 50's...politicians were the hot thing..and Nehru, Patel, Gandhi, Bose..all bald-headed politicians were doing wonders... then came the time of the corporates in the late nineties...and the likes of Mittal (Airtel Fame), Harsha Bhogle,Doug Bailie (HLL) are rocking the markets....

Come to sports with the likes of Ronaldo... ( i can't recall anymore right now) ..and in media... Pranav (NDTV Head)..Akshay Khanna etc..have also made their presence felt... Above all..you can find most of the college guys actually trimming their hair to the last inch in order to get that bald look...coz they know... it's considered hot by women... after all ...all the American Playboy male models are mostly bald....( i think this became a little too explicit now)..

but ...never mind..the whole point is.... that BALD is the new fad... and i am a proud memebr of the emerging fraternity....