Chp 80. Birthday Boy Tommy

It wasn’t such a long time ago when I came up with my “Meet my friend Tommy” post for which I actually got a couple of commendation from many bloggers who don’t know Tommy.

Well today is his birthday and since he is thousands of miles away in small town London and since I am too stingy to make an ISD call (Relax, I ain’t that kanjoos. Tommy bhen chod hasn’t mailed me his London number till now.) I thought I’ll just write a post from India wishing him a happy birthday.

I already wished him at Orkut on Saturday nite. It was around 11:30pm and I was at M’s place online from her lappy (haha faith_no_more, wipe that dirty smirk off your face). I was trying to spice up this really happening Orkut community that I created “Worst Pick-up lines/Intro of Orkut”. As I logged into Orkut, my Orkut b’day reminder back then said “Tomorrow is Tommy’s b’day”. By tomorrow, I just assumed they meant Sunday as it was still a Saturday nite then, but I never knew Orkut was already on a Sunday. So there I was happily wishing him at his scrap book from M’s place when the clock struck 12 that Saturday nite, wondering why nobody else had wished him so far.

Then yesterday, Sunday, Amol called me up from Gurgaon.

“Yo today is Tommy’s birthday”
“Bastard, you wished him a day early at Orkut. His birthday is tomorrow.”
“What crap. It’s today. 17th July. Check Orkut.”
“What check Orkut? Check your freaking calendar!”

And there I was, oooops! 17th is Monday!

“Fuck. Stupid Orkut”
“What stupid Orkut? Stupid Kima!”
“ok ok… comon… I goofed up. I don’t wanna be the odd one here. Please wish him a happy birthday too! Today! Right now! On Orkut! Give me company dooood!”

Asshole Amol laughed so much he couldn’t even speak. And then we started making some really crazy plans like trying to convince him that Sunday was actually his Birthday, and that we’ll even call up Haridwar to inform his parents that it was their son’s birthday that day and not Monday. Lolz. Maybe if it was Muthu, we might actually be able to convince him (Muthu is a friend of ours who will fall for any crap I feed him, however far-fetched it may be. He’s a legend from our Batch. Maybe I’ll come up with a post about him later.)

So here I am, to make up for my blunder, a post specially dedicated to him. Happy birthday Tommy (Arnab Deb who?)

His birth name is Arnab Deb, but everybody calls him Tommy. And after our summer internships, whenever our gang went out for a movie/dinner/pub, when it was time to pay the bill, Tommy was no longer called Tommy. He was then suddenly known as Mister Morgan. All of us would look at him and shout out “Mor-gan Mor-gan Mor-gan” in synchronized unison, and for the umpteenth time he would reach for his wallet while saying “Bastards, I swear this is the last time man”. LoLz. Tommy was one of the few guys who did their summer internship in an I-Bank, literally minting cash. He got into JP Morgan for his summers, hence the name Mister Morgan. His stipend was atleast twice that of our entire gang’s put together.

But comparing his real name and his nom de guerre, one can’t help but smile at the aberrance. This kinda reminds me of Russel Peters who made fun of Indians who go to The US of A and introduce themselves with an American sounding name that is completely different from their Indian name (Quote Russel Peters: “Hi. My name is Rajendra, you may call me Steve” ). Arnab Deb – Tommy? Atleast if this has something to do with Tommy Hilfiger’s line of expensive boxers, I can understand. But no, it seems the reason his IIT friends started called him Tommy was because he looks like a Tommy! That’s what he told me. I asked him “Which Tommy? Tommy Lee Jones? Tommy Lee Pamela? Tommy Ramone? Tom(my) Jones? Tom(my) and Jerry?” And he replied with a grin “I don’t know. Some Tommy. A typical Tommy.”

So, ladies and gentlemen, if you ever want to know how a typical “Tommy” looks like, then I guess you should take a look at my friend Arnab Deb. Can you imagine what it would be like at a crime scene? The cop is busy taking notes from a distraught paranoid victim “The person who just tried to rape me… well… he is around 5’9… medium built… face description… somewhat like a Tommy.” I guess his photo will probably be there in our geography text books years from now. His full blown image will be in the “History of Human evolution” chapter, standing at the end of a line: Homo erectus… Homo neanderthals... Homo sapiens… Homo tommy.

After a stint at JP Morgan, he is now at Barclays, London. But in between these two Mints, he was still the same old stingy Tommy. We always had to wring him hard until he finally shelled out money to pay for the CCD Black Velvet coffee, which was just 3 bucks a cup. Ofcourse sometimes we made him pay for the Tequila bottle but… *Kima slyly points his finger to Monu and Amol* . I even had to literally drag him by the collar to the Reebok Showroom where he bought for me this amazing Iverson “Loyalty” tee-shirt as a treat for getting into Barclays. His last words to me before we parted ways were “Here Kima, take my 10 years old flickering fucked up permanently de-saturated computer monitor. Sell it and send me the cash”. I didn’t sell it. I donated it to the museum. That’s the fun part about Tommy. A lot of his things belong in the museum. His computer, his trademark fluorescent orange bag, his IIT days’ “Tommy” tee-shirt and his “Bank of Dad” tee-shirt. Barclays is definitely going to profit this fiscal year, after all, they’ve just recruited someone who will use the same office supplies throughout his entire career there . I won’t be surprised if Management Gurus use him as a living module example for an efficient Cost cutting method within an Organization.

He is the most fraud Bhong I’ve ever known. Doesn’t know any place in Kolkata and have never played or watched football in his entire life. Bastard doesn’t even like chaats or sweets!!!! Can you imagine that? I loooooove puchkas (Cal version of paani puri). I’ve even dedicated a post entirely to puchkas. Yet here I have as one of my closest friends, a Bhong, who can’t even stand the sight of any chaats or sweets. What a waste! And what a loser

He’s a big hit among the ladies. They drool over him. Although there was a brief scandal about him being a “silent killer” (read my previous post about him), most of the time he is completely clueless about the birds and the bees. He’s the type who would say “Thanx, I’ll call you if my Company’s on a recruitment drive” when a sexy voluptuous babe hands him her phone number on a napkin at a night club . He’s the type who would use “What’s your favorite subject?” as his opening pick-up line. And sometimes the girl makes the mistake of thinking this is some innovative pick-up line and reply “Biology” or “Chemistry” with a wink. That is when Tommy would talk non-stop for two hours giving gyaan to the girl that there is no future in Biology or Chemistry today and that she should do Finance and concentrate on Hedge funds and the Options market.

Sometimes we think he’s actually confused about his sexuality. Maybe it’s because some juniors in IIMB selected him as their mentor because of his “killer looks”, and a majority of these juniors were guys! Once, an old friend of mine from Engg College days, Paolo, came down to B’lore, so Tommy and I took him to a pub. We made the mistake of going to Bunkers on a non-rock music night. It was hip-hop nite and the place was filled with guys, a complete sausage fest. The DJ was playing “My Humps” and all the guys were dancing with each other to that song. Paolo and I were like “WTF!” and decided to leave immediately bottoms-uping our mug. We looked at Tommy and he was actually tapping his feet and nodding his head as his thought and trance were completely lost in the midst of all those guys dancing and rubbing against each other. We had to drag a protesting Tommy out of that place with all our might.

Ah… good ol Tommy. From all of us here in India, Amol, Monu, Kata, Momo, Ankita, Shubha and me, we wish you a happy happy birthday dude. We miss you (although we miss you footing our bill more ). Hope you have a blast there. And please, for once, just today, for the love of Almighty Lord, stop thinking or talking quantitatively and go to a nice Pub and get yourself a lap dance. It’s on us (we’ll send you the cheque later).

Happy Birthday once again bro.

Chp 79. Underworld 3 : The Movie

A possible part 3 sequel to the popular Underworld movies.

The story so far. Selene from the vampire clan fell in love with Michael Corvin who came from the half-werewolf half-vampire bloodline of Alexander Corvinus. Together, Selene and Michael managed to kill Alexander’s two immortal sons, the vicious bloodthirsty Marcus, forefather of the vampire clan, and the rampant barbarous William, forefather of the werewolf clan. Now that there is absolutely no other threat to their lives, the chances of making the third sequel of Underworld almost seem impossible.

But taking reality into consideration, there is indeed a great script for the third sequel and a chance to make it a great trilogy series. Here goes:

Underworld part 3: Racial Profiling

Michael was the first ever cross breed between vampires and werewolves (first Human to survive being bitten by a werewolf and a vampire). He was a confused man. Being a half-vampire and half-werewolf, he didn’t know whether to half howl at a full moon or full howl at a half moon. And when it was time to eat, he didn’t know whether to suck his victim’s entire blood with half a fang or use both his fangs to suck out only half the blood. He spent most of his days trying to figure out what to do. Well, if you think this is getting complicated enough, then read on, because this story is not concentrated around Michael, but rather on Michael’s offspring. It’s about how Michael’s son faced discrimination in College and how he dealt with it.

Michael and Selene got married and voilà, they had a son, Alex Corvin. He was neither a pure bred vampire nor werewolf. In distasteful derogatory terms, he was a “cocktail”. Right from kindergarten he started having a bad time because he was different from everybody else. He did not fit in with the Humans, the werewolves and the vampires. So his classmates started considering him as an outcast. Nobody ever shared their lunch with him. He was alienated from the rest of the crowd, and when it came to reservation, he was neither eligible for the vampire quota nor the werewolf quota. And this continued till college.

Infact the situation worsened in College. His first year at College was sheer torture. Humans were scared of him and avoided him in the College canteen. The vampires never invited him for any of their blood thirsty mid-night rave parties. And his werewolf classmates shunned him out from any of their group study activities or full moon binges. He was indeed a lonely man.

But Alex faced all this bravely without shedding a single tear when he laid down to sleep each night, all alone in his hostel room, just staring at the ceiling with the lights switched off and imagining what it would be like to have a friend. Somebody who would be there by his side, telling him that it was time to visit the dentist again because his vampire fangs were looking ridiculous or someone who would make fun of his hairy werewolf back. But the only people he ever spoke to on a regular basis were his parents who call up once a week.

Just a floor below, the humans were having another of their strange dance parties where they would dance to the rhythm of a “song” which was not sung but instead spoken. He overheard one of his Human classmates call this “hiphop”. Strange people, he thought, after all, the only music Alex ever heard were songs and incantation chants by Gothic bands like Arcana, Theatres Des Vampires, Adiemus, Cruxshadows and his favourite, Dead Can Dance. He still cannot figure out what was the big deal in dancing to a song that does not involve whispering to the dead, sexual orgy or spiritual offerings to Mother Nature.

A floor above, he could hear the shrill shrieks of women followed by weird gory laughter. Guess his vampire classmates had found some more victims to feed on while they partied the whole night. He did have a lot more in common with the vampires than the Humans when it came to similar taste in music, but he once happened to witness how his vampire classmates party. It made him sick. One stormy night, he had just finished taking a shower in the hostel’s common bathroom and was on his way back to his room. He had to pass by a couple of rooms occupied by the vampires. There was a party going on in one of the rooms and the door was slightly ajar. Alex, out of sheer curiosity, peeped inside. Instantaneously he regretted he ever peeped. Because inside that room, his vampire classmates were busy biting and sucking the very life out of his Economic professor, like a hungry pack of street dogs who were throw a single bone to chew, blood dripping everywhere, making a complete mess in that room. Alex found it so repulsive. How could they not use a napkin? He walked back to his room hazily. Well atleast the good news was that he didn’t have to do his economic assignment that night.

Just as he was about to sleep, the eerie howling of his werewolf classmates made his crossbreed heart skip three beats. He looked at his hand and it was as hairy as Anil Kapur’s chest! Damn, he thought, not another full moon night! He covered his ears with the blanket, resisting the urge to howl at the full moon too. He did not want to howl not because he didn’t want to join the other werewolves, but rather because due to his mixed blood, his howl sounded different. When he was young, the other werewolves used to make fun of him saying his howl had a tamilian accent. His mother would hit back at them asking who were they to judge which howl was a perfect howl? And she would shout out that their howls were funny too as they had Bengali accent, Mizo accent, Punjabi accent etc. Good ol Selene, always there to protect her precious child. But now Alex is all grown up and must take care of himself. He decided never to howl again.

The only time he ever spoke to other people was during the inter-college basketball tournaments. Being half bred, he could play the daylight matches along with his Human teammates as the sun did not affect him. And during the floodlight matches in the night, he would once again play for the College, this time along with his vampire and werewolf teammates. But he preferred to play with his Human teammates as the opponent college team usually wins at the night matches because half his teammates would be ejected from the game with a technical and flagrant foul for biting the opponents or even worse, the referees.

So that was how our hero Alex led his college days. All by himself, hardly taking part in any of the group activities. Until his final year at College. That was when Sarah entered his life. Sarah, a Human. Not just a Human but the most beautiful Human Alex had ever seen. He had been noticing her for quite sometime but never had the courage to speak to her, until that fateful day during the Home science class. He walked up to her and calmly asked “May I?” to which Sarah smiled and gladly said yes. So Alex lifted her out of the boiling cauldron. And it was love all the way from then onwards. If it was not for that Home science cooking class where the vampires tried to use her as an ingredient, Alex and Sarah would have never fallen in love.

But Alex and Sarah faced much criticism from the entire College community because of their relationship. The Humans even stopped talking to Sarah but she didn’t care. The werewolves threatened Alex by saying that they will use her as a sacrificial offering on the next full moon, to which Alex calmly replied “You guys never accepted me as one of you. So why are you suddenly so concerned now about me going out with a Human?” To which the werewolves had no answer. The vampires on the other hand were too occupied during their final year to be bothered by Alex and Sarah’s relationship; they were busy trying to catch their Chemistry professor and feed on him because he failed seven vampires the previous semester.

Apart from all these, Alex and Sarah had problems of their own. Being a half bred vampire, Alex must be careful not to give Sarah any love bite no matter how intimate the moment was. He still remembered the furor they created in the College campus one day when Sarah came to class with a dupatta tightly veiled around her neck. Ofcourse she wasn’t hiding anything and all she wanted to do was wear her salwaar kameeze that way. But the College grapevine was bustling with rumours and gossips and the Humans even played a mean prank by dedicating to her a song “See you on the otherside” by Ozzy on the College assembly speakers. But Sarah was unfazed by all this and instead grew more and more close to Alex.

Finally it was Graduation Day. More than half the Humans who were admitted at first year were still alive, which was a positive sign for the College as it meant the vampire and werewolf students were spending more time studying rather than hunting. The class photo as usual looked funny because none of the vampires could appear on the negative print of the camera film, hence showing odd empty spaces here and there in the group photo. The faculty voted Sarah as the best outgoing student, while Alex earned the “Most disciplined Unnatural Being” award. Both Michael and Selene were there that day too. Selene cried, shedding tears of happiness on seeing Alex kiss Sarah, while Michael held back his tears because he was afraid the other Humans around him might consider cross breeds to be pansies.

And thus end the third sequel to the movie Underworld. Believe me, it will make a big box office hit! Hoping to hear from one of the Hollywood Directors to buy my story. Till then, goodbye and hope you enjoyed it.

Chp 78. Dowry or go the Mizo way

Almost everyday in India, there’s an incident of a woman committing suicide because of dowry pressures from her in laws (“official report: 16 deaths a day! ). Hail to those women brave enough to put their dowry demanding husbands in jail.

Dowry, which is a punishable offence under Act no.28, 1961 known as “The Dowry Prohibition Act of 1961” and considered a social evil by many progressive modernists and various Women’s Organizations, is still very much in practice today. History makes no mention of where and when exactly this system came into being. One school of thought believe it to have originated “from the Colonial British who forcibly introduced land ownerships and hence the people had to trade or gift lands to each other using marriage as an occasion, while another set of researchers said Dowry was introduced before the British Raj came to India as a measure to discourage the increasing number of Polygamy and Polyandry within the society.

Collins Cobuild English Dictionary define dowry as “A woman’s money and goods which, in some cultures, her family gives to the man that she marries”

Most people accept this as a normal practice because they believe that after all, the woman is going to live with the husband for the rest of her life and it kinda makes sense for the husband to have some sort of additional financial income to support an extra person in his family. But it doesn’t make sense at all when it comes to 21st century true love or gender equality. Getting married is not like booking a room in a Hotel and paying for that accommodation (That’s just the Honeymoon part). Call me a dreamer, but to me my idea of a perfect marriage has always been with somebody who truly loves me the way I love her, and that I will be the head of the family earning bread for the whole family while it’s up to my spouse to work or not. She doesn’t need to bring her fortune into my family… I mean ofcourse it might make our life easier but if she’s not able to contribute, it doesn’t really matter to me because what matters the most is that she is already bringing the most precious gem into my family, herself, the greatest dowry one can ask for. From then on, we can always work out things together.

While I was doing my engineering course back in Coimbatore, our English ma’am once asked the class how many of us were planning to do an MBA after our BE. A couple of hands went up and when she asked one student why, he replied “To get a larger dowry”. And the whole class erupted in laughter while I just sat there clueless not catching the humour. Even our English ma’am clearly did not find it funny and she changed the subject. Later after the class, when I asked my friend what was so damn funny, he explained the whole dowry concept to me. Damn! Right then I did feel a bit sick. All these time I thought people go for higher studies to get better paying jobs and hence have a more secure future; I just didn’t know getting a bundle of your wife’s cash and jewellery was a part of that security.

In our mizo culture, there is no such thing as a dowry. Ever since the earliest written record about the Zo Chieftain warlords who ruled their respective settlements/clans now collectively known as Mizoram was archived, there is no mention of any dowry settlement or the girl’s family paying the husband-to-be any amount of money.

Infact, according to our tradition, it is the complete opposite. The man’s side has to pay a certain amount of money to the girl’s family! How cool is that! The bride does not have to pay anything; it’s the groom who must come up with the moolah. I’m sure by now many of the ladies out there must have moved a bit closer to the monitor screen ok just kidding. But it’s true. According to our customary law, the husband has to pay the bride’s family some amount of cash or livestock if he wants to marry their daughter. No dowry from the woman’s part. Ps. Ladies, I’m single. *wink wink*

In our culture, when a male child is born, the elders (Upa) bless the son by saying “Mipa huaisen sai kap tur” meaning, a brave young man who will kill an elephant (those days, for a male member of a family, it was necessary to kill an elephant single-handedly if he wants to be accepted in the society as a man, until which he is considered just a boy. This probably explains why there are no more elephants to be found in and around Mizoram today!!!) And when a female child is born, the elders bless that baby girl with “Hmeichhe hmeltha se man tur” meaning, a pretty girl who would bring fortune to the family.

In a way, a girl child is considered to be more precious than the boy child. Female infanticide is one thing you’ll never find within our community. Ofcourse when you consider this situation literally, it actually means the girl is being sold. But it’s not as bad as it sounds, like the many gory news you read in the papers where some poverty ridden family sold their daughter off to a stranger because they need the money. No, it’s nothing like that. Mizo community has always been an open one, where guys were allowed to court the girls freely. And once they are in love and wants to get married, both sides of the family have to approve of their marriage and the girl’s family has every right to reject the guy’s side if they don’t find him worthy enough (maybe the elephant he killed was not big enough… )

The closest thing that comes to a dowry in our culture are the personal belongings of the bride that she brings along when she moves in with her husband, like her clothes, shoes, wardrobe, mattress etc. But all these, called “thuam”, belongs to the bride and the husband has no right to dispose any of it without her consent “except in times of famine”. These items play a significant role when it comes to a divorce. Divorces, like in many other societies, had been shunned upon in our society even those days. But when the Upa (elders) fail to make the bitter couple come to an understanding, then they do get a divorce (History and books I have read on early mizo divorces only mentioned about divorces due to adultery). If it was the husband who cheated on the wife, she was entitled to her belongings. But if it was the wife who cheated on the husband, she has to leave him and her belongings and go home. In such a case, the money paid to the bride’s family has to be returned too. Suppose the bridegroom passes away, then the bride has the full proprietor right to his home and belonging. And she’s free to marry again once the three months long mourning period, called “thlaichhiah”, is over. (Guys, beware of black widows! Hey what’s that white powdery substance floating in your tea? Lolx. )

Not surprising that Mrs N.Chatterji, in her book “Status of women in earlier Mizo Society”, has rightfully said “…the status of women in their society was in no way inferior to that of man and she suffered none of those derogatory and discriminatory treatments as may be found in some of the more advanced societies”.

So I guess that is how our culture differs from most of the other cultures in India when it comes to Marriage. As far as I know, the Khasi community of Meghalaya is the only other community in India whose early traditions and practices do not involve accepting a dowry from the bride during marriage. But I can be wrong too and would be grateful if anybody else can point out other such communities where dowry was non-existent during their days-gone-by times.

Thankyou, and say no to dowry. Kima.

Reference: “Essays on the history of the Mizos” by Pu Sangkima, loving father of Stephen (classmate and one of my closest friends in School).

Chp 77. Manori Beach > Palm Beach Resort

What better ways to end a stressful week at the office than by stealing away to a peaceful idyllic beach resort with friends for the weekend where you can unwind and do absolutely anything that you want.

The Location: Manori Beach, Palm Beach Resort.

The cast and their characters:

Camera woman cum director: Perween
Producer: Samit
Comedian cum sound-in-charge: Sachin
Hero: Little Faham
Item number: Lavita
Drinks-in-charge: Kima
Dietician: Dinpuii
Quietician: Mandy
Censor Board: JV
Based on a true life story: Birthday girl Tina

Lights
Camera
Action!

So there we were, on our way to this fantabulous beach resort for the weekend. I was with my sister and JV in his car since he wanted to drive all the way there, while the rest of the gang came by the ferry express.

Got lost on the way and ended up at Pali Beach Resort which was like 50 kms away from our destination. Lolz. JV didn’t want to ask for directions and had I been driving, neither would I. It’s a guy thing. We don’t just stop and ask for directions when there’s a woman present in the car, and this applies to nearly every male species in this World.

Finally reached Palm Beach Resort. We had just missed the beautiful sunset because of the wrong turn that we took. Damn! But the rest of the gang already there took a couple of snaps.







So we moved on to our bungalow. It was one huge room with 5 double beds. I met my sister’s friends again, and this time Perween and Samit bought little Faham along. Man, he’s so cute that I just wanna gobble him up (Thank God for the existence of metrosexuals, such a remark by a guy is now accepted by society )

We booked our tree-top party location in the Beach resort, and Sachin bought his laptop along. Fixed the speakers and soon it was party time.

Those of you who are planning to go to this Resort must keep this in mind: You have to bring your own stock of hard liquor along as the Resort only caters to Beer. Fortunately for me, the guys I was with had already been here before and know about this.

Very soon we were rocking the place. We really did set that tree top place on fire that night. Even little Faham was shaking his hip to Daddy Yankee’s “Rompe” and Sona family's “ek gilassi do gilassi teen gilassi char”. Soon, many of the other guests at the Resort that night started gathering around our tree top so we pumped up the volume and the entire area near our tree top was one big grind session. Everybody danced, strangers you’ve never met before, enjoying the night without the utmost care about who they are dancing with, all under the bright moonlight and the sounds of the waves hitting the shores in a distance.



I really enjoyed that night. I think I made atleast a full bottle of Bacardi disappear. Sachin even let me DJ my entire hiphop CD infront of the crowd which included tracks like Fort Minor’s “Where’d you go” and “Believe me”, Shakira’s “Hips don’t lie” and “La tortura” , Juelz Santana’s “Oh yes”, Daddy Yankees’ “Gasolina” and “Rompe”, Eminems’ “Shake that” and the bit old Rihanna’s “Pon de replay”, MVP’s “Rock ya body”, R.Kelly’s “Burn it up”, Akon’s “Lonely” and “Locked up”, PCD’s “Don’t cha” and “Beep” and BYP’s “My Humps”. Gawddd I love that night!

At exactly 12, it was cake smearing time. Sang a hearty happy birthday song to dear Tina and what followed next was a chaotic chocolate cake flying everywhere incident. After we all washed up, the party continued and I think we all winded up around 3-4 am. Man, it was indeed a great party!



Now comes the only bummer of the weekend Shangri-La. Mosquitoes!!!! Freaking thousands and thousands of them, sucking the very life out of me. By 5am I was completely sober and scratching every part of my body; sober because I think the damn mosquitoes sucked out all traces of alcohol present in my bloodstream. Sachin, Mandy and Lavita slept like a baby while the rest of us were up the whole night donating blood. I even went outside to sleep on the hammock but there were even more mosquitoes there. Sometimes I even felt as if the mosquitoes were actually rocking the hammock in one great unified motion.

Anyway, I managed to sleep for an hour. When the sun rose, Perween and Samit ordered breakfast and we filled our stomach. Food was excellent. Pav and omlette, chicken ham sandwiches, alloo paratha and coffee. After we were re-energized, Sachin and I went to the beach, but it was too damn hot n humid to hang-five there so we walked back to the resort and dived into the shaded swimming pool. Boy that felt good. Swam, floated, splashed, drowned, did all sort of crazy stuff.







Am definitely not going to miss out little Faham trying his best to join us too. He would scream and scream while his mom or dad takes him across the pool on their back. Samit tried his best to teach his son how to swim but was disappointed to realize it’s gonna take a few more years for Faham to swim across the English Channel. Here he is fiddling with the life-saver not understanding exactly what it’s for.



After the refreshing pool session, it was back to the treetop. Blasted the music and opened up another bottle of beer while leisurely watching a group of vacationers play football below. Our lunch was served there and soon it was time to big adieu to this wonderful place. Back to the busy city life and back to a hectic office schedule (I’m just speaking on behalf of the other guys ). Before I end this post, a few parting photographs.

[ Me on top of the treehouse with the stony rugged part of the beach as the background ]


[ Me showing little Faham one of the mysteries and wonders of the World, that pebbles can make sound if you bang them against each other but mushrooms growing on the side of palm trees don’t ]

[ And finally, the entire gang ]

Chp 76. Holland Down

Mayday. Mayday. Holland down. Holland down. Holland down.

One of the most exciting matches I’ve ever seen. Ended up in utter disappointment for me but at the same time felt gratified in a strange way for having to witness such a landmark match LIVE at 3 in the morning while there seem to be no life at all from my entire apartment.

Holland has just conceded to Portugal with a marginal 1-0 scoreline. It was the first time during this WC that I actually forced myself to sleep for 2 hours in the evening so that I will be wide awake during the match. It was also the first time since the World Cup kicked off that I switched off my mobile phone during the entire game because I just wanted to concentrate and give my entire thoughts to the match and not text messaging friends all over India discussing about the match.

With the exit of the Netherlands, so ends my campaign too. I am now a pilot without a plane, a Caesar without an army, a George without a jungle, a football fan without a team. Holland still retains the “Best team to have never won the World Cup” title. But mark my words, this particular team is a very young team and they will definitely be back with a bang at World Cup South Africa.

Yellow cards flew everywhere, 16 to be exact. But before that correspondent from the TOI once against blast the referee for "reducing the game to an utter farce", I’d like to show my solidarity with the ref Ivanov that even though it was not a very well umpired match, most of the players do deserve those cards and that there was nothing he could do about those incidents. No I will not blame him for showing 4 red cards. All four players who got their second yellow card bought it upon themselves. Stupid, yes, but nevertheless deserving. There was absolutely no need for Deco to delay the game by holding it, unnecessary of Van Bronckhorst to trip Valente when there were 2 other Dutch defenders behind him while Valente was the only Portuguese around, Costinha’s intentional handball was completely unnecessary and about Boulahrouz’ second yellow, he should have known better not to swing his elbow like that when an opponent is immediately behind him because that is when experienced players especially veterans like Figo would use as an opportunity to get knocked down, and with the recent DeRossi-McBride incident still fresh in the officials’ minds, I wasn’t surprised at all to see the Russian referee Ivanov hand him his second yellow.

Although I felt some of the cautions given out by Ivanov could have been avoided, I felt there were other incidents that really deserved to get penalized but didn't, like Figo's head butt which is a definite direct red card, the flying kunfu kick on Robben's chest inside the Portuguese penalty area, the harsh challenge by Costinha on Ooijer which deserved to be Costinha's second yellow (anyway he got his second yellow later) or the incident where the entire Portuguese bench came rushing out pushing and slapping a dutch player (was it Van Bronckhorst?) around as if he's a rag doll! Comon! The Dutch-Portuguese War need not be revisited again.

Holland with 62% possession, twice as many passes made than Portugal did, twice as many shots taken, just fail to find the back of the net. Cocu’s shot which hit the bar seem to pass on a message that it was just not Holland’s day (I already got a slight feeling that it was not Holland’s day when Harsha announced at the beginning of the broadcast that the match was between Holland and the Netherlands! )

Every molecule, follicle and ventricle within me sat up during the entire game. So many times Holland came close to scoring, so many times the players were on the verge of tearing each other’s throat and so many times the referee had to reach in his pocket to swipe out yet another yellow card. Holland got 7 yellows out of which 4 resulted in 2 reds, and Portugal got 9 freaking yellow cards! The commentator really did find the right words when he said “If Portugal wins, it will be just a pyrrhic victory for Scolari”. Now that Portugal are through to the Quarters, they will be without Deco and Costinha, and C.Ronaldo looks doubtful too from that injury. Even if Holland had equalized and scored again, they will also be without key players in the next round including players who will have to play safe so that they wont miss the next game after that (although they aren’t in a soup as hot as Portugal’s).

My final word is, no matter which team scored more or played better last night, there is just one clear cut winner, and that is England. Lucky bastards.

My 2 pence on a couple of incidents:

About C.Ronaldo’s injury:

Sad but I won’t miss him at all. Because for a defender, there’s no bigger insult than to be beaten by an opponent using fancy moves. Hence defenders are more likely to take out such a person before he can execute such a move. Even other top notch players like the original Ronaldo, Ronaldhino, Zizou etc display fancy moves while attacking, but no one does it as flamboyant as the thick headed C.Ronaldo. He has been criticized many times even by his own teammates that he is a “glory chaser” and a “one man show” incapable of being a team player. To me, I feel the only real contribution he gives to his team (be it Portugal or ManUtd) is being awarded free-kicks for the fouls he receives. A crucial role I agree, but such a person is definitely prone to injury and I’m surprised he hasn’t been taken out earlier. If C.Ronaldo recovers and continues playing like this, all he’s doing is committing professional suicide.

About Figo’s head butt:

Figo Figo Figo. Why why why. You knew so damn well that more than a million eyes were on you, what made you ever head butt Van Bommel? Such a stupid stupid move on your part dear Figo. Ofcourse you were angry and ofcourse your opponents were provoking you and ofcourse Van Bommel’s fall after the contact was a bit overdramatic. But you should have known better that that is what most professionals do. Thrash talk all you want, but the moment you get physical, it’s a completely different ball game. Now with Deco, Costinha and probably C.Ronaldo sidelined for the next game, do you think Portugal can ever beat England if you are disciplined by the FIFA Board for that action? Gawd I hate England, but now I’m starting to hate you more for giving England the window to get through to the Semis!!! Why did you have to physically display your anger on the field? Remember the heated England and Turkey EURO 2004 qualifier match? Ofcourse there was no love lost between the two teams on the field, but they came to a fist fight only in the tunnels far away from the prying eyes of the video cameras.

About Van Nistelrooy not playing:

Feyenoord’s Kuyt displayed a fine piece of playing, but he just couldn’t save the Dutch ship from sinking. With 62% possession and 20 shots taken, it was obvious that Holland’s main problem was with the finishing. At such times, one needs poachers. And who else better to fill that spot than one of the greatest poachers himself, Van Nistelrooy. The score line could have different figures if Nistelrooy was there instead of Kuyt. But ofcourse, the past is past and there’s no point saying one particular strategy would have worked out better, just because another strategy didn’t. Van Basten gambled with the young Kuyt instead of the out-of-form Nistelrooy but unfortunately he couldn’t hit the jackpot.

Gomenasai, Holland, I bid thee sayonara. You tried your best but luck just wasn’t on your side. Cheer up all ye Vans. This Van here is not ashamed of you. Disappointed a bit, but is still proud to know that the Vans can still go the distance. You have done the VAN family proud, brethrens. Kudos.

And with that ends my plan to celebrate Holland’s July 9th victory with a bottle of champagne. I’ve already saved 600 bucks meant for the bottle which I will now spend on something else, like purchase a new Tommy boxer or buy Harsha’s latest book “How to tell the difference between Holland and the Netherlands”.

Chp 75. WC Interval - NBA Finals

World Cup World Cup World Cup everywhere. I’m sure this is the highest publicity and popularity the game football ever reached here in India.

In a way, it’s nice to know that Cricket is not the only sports people talk about right now. But I think sometimes people tend to over-do things a bit. This is the first time ever in ESPN history that the NBA Conference Finals is not broadcasted LIVE. Five years ago, ESPN used to show LIVE games of NBA atleast thrice a week. Now, not even the Conference Finals is broadcasted LIVE. Football has completely overtaken Basketball.

My team, the San Antonio Spurs lost in the semis. Too bad Duncan, Bibby, Ginobili, Finley, Horry, Van Axel, Barry, Bowen etc.. Anyway, since the Finals was between the Mavs and Heat, both first timers to reach the Finals, I decided to cheer for the Mavs. I hate the Heats line-up. I mean, yeah, I got nothing against D.Wade. He plays God level (and eventually got the MVP award which he truly deserved), but I’ve always hated Shaq. Take away that height and weight and all you have is a talentless no good clumsy stupid oaf who can’t even convert a free-throw for nuts. And I also despise ex-Sonics and later ex-Lakers Payton and ex-Celtics Antoine Walker. I just hate the way they throw their attitude around. But then, I used to love and still do, Alonzo Mourning. He’s one of my all time favourite players, and if people must throw their attitude around, they should do it like him, not like how Payton, Walker or Kobe does. God I hate those b@strds. Plus Mourning was the main Heat player during the days of Jordan and Pippen.

Anyway, Mavs too had a great team. Novitski is still there (Damn, can you believe he’s just a freaking year older than me?) and Terry too had a great game 1 and 2. And then there’s one player I really like by the name of Marquis Daniels because he has some part of the Bible’s Songs tattooed to his chest! Seems when he was young he used to read to his grandma the Bible everyday and hence memorized most of it and that “Songs” was his favorite passage. I find that really cool, funky and sweet at the same time. Mavs took a 2-0 lead in the best of 7 Finals but they just couldn’t keep up with Wade raining down shots from everywhere in the next 4 games and hence lost the series. If only the likes of Nash and Finley were still there at Mavs, Heat would have definitely been history.

If you are a true sports buff like me, what would be the one thing you hate the most in this entire Universe? That the team you’re supporting just lost due to an unfair referee’s decision? Nopes. There is one thing much worse than that. And that is, when you are not able to watch the Finals LIVE and hence has to settle for a replay, and so you spend the whole day not contacting any of your friends or surfing the internet or peeping into the sports section of the papers for fear that you might know the result. And while you’re so deeply engrossed in watching the replay, somebody calls you up and tells you the final score!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And in my case, the culprit is none other than my dear friend Sowmya who has been leaving a lot of comments on my past few posts. Yes, Doctor Sowmya. Gawd I hate you!!!!! She called me up from Hyderabad while the game was into the 3rd quarter and since she was planning to party here at Mumbai for the weekend, I picked up her call so that we can plan out where to meet up n stuff. And then she asked me what I’m up to and I absentmindedly told her I’m watching the NBA Conference Finals and then she said, “Oh, Heats won”. Aaaargh aaaaargh aaaargh aaaaargh!!! It was right then that everything just stopped, you know, like in those comedy sitcoms when everything is going on fine until somebody just said something to screw it up and then you hear the sound of a movie reel abruptly stopping “krrrrreechhh”.

Anyway thanx a lot for spoiling the fun Sowmya. And don’t try to justify it by saying Mavs were going to lose anyway. Sports is not just about the final score. It’s about enjoying the entire game and that’s one of the reasons why we guys become couch potatoes… I’m sure you don’t want me to get into the whole “women and sports” thingie again, do you? Plus, I don’t want the fair ladies like flygirl, aishwarya, sunshine, virgochhas lashing down my throat again

Chp 74. World Cup: Red Card!

A collision, a bone crunching sound, a player sprawling on the ground in agony while the other player protested it was a dive, the entire stadium erupting into one continuous sonic boom thundering out louder than Mt. Elba spewing out another volley of molten lava, until the referee dug into his pocket and sternly whisked out a red card. That action detonated the peak of every spectator’s vocal decibel: half of them due to celebration and the other half due to dismay.

Today as I turned the pages of the TOI while sitting on “my throne” with a cigarette in one hand, I happened to glance through the article “Booking Office” on the sport’s section about yesterday’s USA-Italy match. It really caught my attention and after I read the entire article, all I could think of was, who the hell is the correspondent who wrote this article? The credit to that article went to “AGENCIES”. Sometimes freelancers or people not affiliated to any News group would write a review and submit it to the tabloids.

Those of you who saw the match thriller would obviously know that there were 3 red cards handed out during that particular game. And any regular viewer of football will know that FIFA is now stricter than before due to the increasing number of fouls committed during a match. If players lunge themselves dangerously at an opponent and crash at them with no contact on the ball, the referee has the full divine authority to show that player a direct red card.

Yet this writer blasted the referee for “reducing the game to a farce” and that “there was an impression the Uruguayan has lost control”. Bullshit. Referees hand out red cards whenever it is necessary and according to Jorge Larrionada the innocent “victim” of this bloodthirsty (or fame thirsty?) writer, it just so happened to be necessary three times last night (out of which one red was only a result of two yellows). The writer sounds like an amateur football reviewer or wannabe expert or somebody who watched the match with his friends and wrote whatever his intoxicated football crazy friends were blabbering about.

“Although the absence of the three players accidentally created a thrilling spectacle, soccer is all about skillfully creating those chances. It’s not about desperate attempts to hoist balls upfield for tired forwards to chase against exhausted defenders.”

Jesus! Are you for real???? My 12 years old nephew can write a better football review than that. First of all, the three ejections did not “accidentally” create a thrill. A thrill was definitely bound to be created with such an ejection, duh! Secondly, I can’t believe you actually wrote a review on a World Cup match and called the game “soccer”! And thirdly, yes, football may be about skillfully creating “those” chances (I don’t know what you meant by “those” so I’m just assuming they are goal scoring opportunities), but football is also about players following the referee’s decision even though he made a mistake. I’ve watched many matches where the referee or linesmen made a completely wrong decision, but football is all about living with it and carrying on. To err is human. If field referees were removed and a match officiated by an army of referee watching the game on slow-mo TV replays, the decision may be 100% precise but then the game is no longer football. Along with your decision to remove the field officials, you’ve killed the very soul and spirit of football. Football is also about getting penalized for a foul or getting away with it. It’s about ejections and how players adapt to a missing comrade or comrades by adjusting and reshuffling their formation. And yes, “forwards may be tired and defenders can get exhausted”. But they are all trained for that and getting exhausted is also what football is all about and FYI this is the World Cup, the mother of all football matches. If you don’t want to see players go through such a tiring ordeal, maybe try watching school level tournaments instead (but I assure you, even those little kids do get tired). And about your quote on desperate attempts “to hoist balls upfield”, well, this is the first time I’ve actually come across anybody using such a phrase in a football review write-up but then, what can I say: You have a different perspective on the whole game.

“If he has given verbal warnings to the players earlier in the game before he started flashing his red and yellow cards, its likely the fouls that followed wouldn’t have happened.

“Mastroeni was given a straight red for sliding into the ankles of Andrea Pirlo, the sort of challenge that usually gets a caution. Pope received two yellows, either of which would have been avoided with an early warning.

Are you kidding me? So if a referee gave a verbal warning to a player, he’s suddenly going to reform himself right there in the middle of the field and won’t even come close to an opponent for fear that he might have contact with the person? Get real. Football is about getting physically aggressive and at the same time not crossing that thin line between fair-play and dangerous play. It’s about dangerous tackles that are disallowed by FIFA and also about badly timed tackles which can still be penalized even if there was no harmful intent. Simply warning a player isn’t going to change anything, because these players are extremely experienced professionals who rather treat the presence of a referee as somebody managing the entire process and not somebody giving out free gyaans on how to play the game. And yes, there has been many occasions indeed when a player got a straight red for sliding into an opponent’s ankle; you’ll just have to watch more of the game to know that.

Yeah maybe you can voice your displeasure on the referee for being strict because after all, your article seem to have a biased leaning, but criticizing the referee and saying that all the fouls could have been avoided had they been verbally warned earlier, just seemed to pass on a message to TOI readers on how much you really know about the game of football.

I was cheering for Italy initially because somehow, I just don’t support the Americans when it comes to football as the game is not very popular there compared to other sports, and that I believe a Country totally committed to football should be the deserving winner. But all that changed when De Rossi gave that elbow to McBride. Bastard! Such a distasteful sportsmanship. McBride, all bloodied and dazed, had to undergo three stitches and De Rossi was given a straight marching order to the locker room. After that incident, somehow, something in me just couldn’t cheer for the Italians anymore. It was indeed a shameful skulduggery and I would have stopped my subscription to TOI immediately had the “Agency” writer also said that that too deserved to get a freaking verbal warning. But fortunately he/she didn’t complain much about that particular decision. Phew.

When I used to play for school level basketball, we were taught how to treat the referees with utmost respect. We were also taught that referees make mistakes, and that we should accept any decisions they make. I learnt it the hard way when I protested vehemently for a wrong call and as a result got a technical foul. I protested even further and I was ejected from the game. Then came the college level basketball era. Referees transformed from the God like stature to people you would invite for a tea and chit-chat with. They became your equals, a friend who would give you tips on what’s wrong with your fade-away shot or turn around cross over dribble. Soon I got promoted to University District level, State level and finally National level. I even played a match with Sri Lanka’s Mercantile BB Club. In the National level, I locked horns with the big guns like India Bank, Punjab Police, IOB, Railways, Custom & Excise, ICF etc. During my brief stint with the Pros, what I noticed was that, these professional players hardly treat the referees with respect. Some of them would even abuse a referee for a wrong call and still get away with it!!!

So the gist of this whole post is simple. As players become more and more acclaimed, recognized, salary hiked and sometimes snooty, they sometimes tend to treat the referees with disrespect. After all there is a huge gap between their respective fame and salary package. And players will always protest a referee’s wrong call even though his decision is final and there’s no way he’s going to change that. And the players know that very well too. But still they protest. They protest not because of disrespect but rather because it is of human nature to do that. And referees have to live through all that protest from the millionaires around them and stick to their decision. I don’t think this Agency writer have any idea how tough it is to officiate a game and how much of a fitness training and endurance work-out these referees have to undergo inorder to officiate a World Cup match. Most of the defenders run till the half line, midfielders stay between the two D’s and strikers dash from half-line to the opponent’s area, while these referees have to run from one end of the field to the other the whole time, with no substitution. And in the process, they may have made some wrong judgments. Fine, you can show your displeasure, but you don’t have to crucify him for that!

I know, sometimes it’s really hard not to criticize a referee for blowing his whistle unfairly against the team you’re cheering for. I still remember how pissed off I was when Lehman was shown the red card at the UEFA Finals even though a part of me was telling me he deserved that. But to write a review about a match for a Newspaper or News website that everybody reads, one has to be completely unbiased and look at the whole issue with a very neutral perspective. That is what makes a good sports columnist.

Chp 73. World Cup: Of women folks and football

Football. To most women, the very word itself can bring about a new height of insecurity. After all, it is the one element on Earth that they can never compete with. No matter how much Azzaro perfume they spray upon themselves (somebody’s gonna kill me for saying that! ) Or wear the most revealing designer minis and spaghettis, men will always ignore them for football. It is the Universal truth.

World Cup is the only time when we-men relax and wo-men yawns. But I really appreciate women who take that extra mile just to please their men. After all, we men do take a lot of effort just to please our woman like leaving the damn toilet seat down every time we finish peeing or flicking our cigarette in the ashtray and not everywhere we feel like. Take for example the UEFA Championship Finals. My roomie n I went all the way to KMG to watch it LIVE with a couple of other guys. Eventually there were around 15 of us and 50 rounds of beer. And among the people watching the match, 3 of the guys brought their girlfriends along. Two of the girls slept off even before half-time, and the remaining girl just kept text-messaging her friends through-out the match. Why did they come to the match in the first place when their boyfriends were going to ignore them anyway? I guess it’s because they want to show how much they love them by being present at such a special moment.

There are ofcourse many women crazy about football. I once watched a crucial match between Brazil and France with my mom! The sound effects she made when the ball was close to the goal was simply priceless. She would scream in her shrill high pitch voice “hets hets hets heeettsss…”, “khai khai khai khaiiii…”, “pet ro pet ro pet ro pet roooo…” (In English: “kick it kick it kick it kick itttt”). But the main difference between them and us is that they don’t analyze the players or game strategy like we do. They just sit and cheer with all their hearts out but have no idea what an offside means or what’s the difference between a direct and indirect free kick. Sometimes when a player plays a dummy role by acting as if he’s receiving a pass but let it go past him in the final second to fool the opponent, some women actually think “what a useless player, he can’t even receive a pass!”

Hence this post of mine is dedicated to all you women folks out there (and a few men like Benjamin, Admin of misual.com ) who think football is just about 22 men chasing a ball and trying to kick inside each other’s goal. I will start off with my dear friend Jenny. She works at the AOL call centre in Bangalore. She came over to my place one day and my roomie and I were watching an Arsenal match on ESPN. She has completely no idea about football and since my roomie and I were so deeply engrossed in the match, she tried to strike up a conversation regarding the match. Out came the ultimate football joke of the Century: “So has Arsenal qualified for the World Cup?” Gawddd!!!!! I have never laughed out that much in my entire life!!! And it was a very genuine and innocent question too. These are some of the reasons why I’m so grateful to God for making women so different from us. It’s as if they are here just for a comic relief

And then there is that mizo housewife who saw David Beckham during the World Cup 2002 and exclaimed in surprise “I thought Beckham was playing for Manchester United, how come he’s playing for England too?”

Another time I was in my own World watching Arsenal beat Leeds United 3-2 and a couple of friends were there too. David’s girl Julian (name changed) was there in the crowd and I was really impressed about the way she was seriously watching the match, until Arsenal scored their third goal and ESPN showed a clip of Arsené Wenger rejoicing. She exclaimed “Look look, their “Boss” is so happy!”. LoLz. I mean, in a way, he is their “Boss” but who calls him by that designation anyway? Women. Sigh.

For a guy, explaining the concept of Offside to a girl is probably one of the hardest things to do. Let me rephrase that. It is a Herculean task. Just when you thought they understood everything you told them, a few exceptional cases will occur, like when the ball strikes the body of the opponent and goes to the striker who was in an offside position but is actually not an offside since it was the opponent who touched the ball last, or when the linesman gives the benefit of the doubt to the defensive team even though it was not an offside, and the girl would start “Why is that not an offside? Why why why why why?” and all you feel like right then is taking out a shotgun and blowing her brains out.

Football is one game where we would like to be left alone without any questions asked. Mothers, sisters, girl friends, wives, concubines, please stay out. Maybe you enjoy watching the game, but you don’t understand the game and you never will. One reason why we have penises and you don’t. When God took that rib out from Adam and gave it to Eve, He unfortunately forgot to transfer the ability to comprehend football, and so that’s how things will be. After all, it’s just a once-in-4-years experience so quit cribbing and let your man enjoy. Cheer for a team if you must, but don’t ask silly questions during the game.

Just because a particular country has many good strikers doesn’t mean they can all play at the same time. And no, every foul does not deserve to get a yellow card. Yes, I can see the ear phone in the referee’s ear. What’s he listening to? Aaaargh. Shakira’s “Hips don’t lie” from the local German radio station. Happy? No I have absolutely no clue why he’s lying there screaming and grabbing his ankle even though the replay showed that there was no contact. Maybe the contact was so fast that the video camera failed to capture it. Yes a “banana kick” is an easy way to score a goal from a corner kick, why don’t you tell that to the players because I think they don’t know. No honey, for the umpteenth time, there are no commercial breaks during the entire game except at halftime. And no, Pelé is not playing for Brazil anymore. Huh, what did you just ask me? Do I know Maradona? No dear, I’ve been watching football all my life and have absolutely no idea who or what Maradona is. Is it an Italian dish? Aaaargh. Honey, can you please pass me my handgun from under the mattress?

After July 9th, you can nag him all you want. But till then, please, I beseech all you women folks out there, leave your man at peace. And by “your man” I mean, your boyfriend, husband, brother (especially little brothers ), cousin, father, uncle and anyone that’s remotely related to the male species of our race. The other day I was watching the Japan Australia match. The Japanese side was barely hanging on to a 1 goal lead and then on the 80th minute my sister told me we’re going out for dinner. Much as I hate to leave my personal space around the TV, the look in her eyes screamed out murder if I skip dinner again. So unwillingly I went out with her. Later I found out Australia scored 3 goals in the last 8 minutes! Aaaaargh! And when I told my sister what I missed because of chow-time, all she said was, “So what, it’s only 3 goals. People score that much all the time during football na?”. Aaaargh. Once again, where’s that handgun?